


'cos i have hella feelings for you

by ephemeralstar



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, The Maze Runner Series - All Media Types, X-Men - All Media Types, Youtube RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Angst, Bittersweet Ending, Childhood Friends, Childhood Memories, F/F, F/M, Gratuitous Lush Set Piece, Lovers To Enemies, Originally Posted on Tumblr, Post-X-Men: Apocalypse (2016), Soulmate-Identifying Marks, Soulmate-Identifying Timers, X-Men bonding with former enemies, coming out video, gently nsfw, vlogging - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-24
Updated: 2019-01-24
Packaged: 2019-10-15 12:38:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 21
Words: 52,916
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17528873
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ephemeralstar/pseuds/ephemeralstar
Summary: Imagines originally posted on tumblr on several of my blogs, all in one place. Original blog posting place listed at the start of each chapter.Individual chapter summaries at the top of each chapter, as well as chapter-specific warnings.Feel free to add prompts/requests in the comments!





	1. pretty lies {Warren Worthington III}

**Author's Note:**

> reposting this but without the queen fics

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Soulmate AU: Matching tattoos.
> 
> Summary: So the Horseman of Death is cute, which is terrible because he broke your nose and you’re trying to hate him, but he’s hanging out with your friends, and Charles won’t stop preaching helpfulness and forgiveness, so maybe using your powers to help his transition to the school be easier isn’t the worst idea ever. Except that he keeps wanting to talk to you, and after you start talking you start hanging out, and he might clue into the fact that you have a crush on him, which is terrible because from what you can see, he doesn’t have your matching tattoo… at least, not in the way you think.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tumblr: starforgedthor
> 
> A/N: 2686 words. Written at 3am because I just saw BoRhap and I’m so thirsty for Ben Hardy.

Warren doesn’t have a tattoo, not that he knows of, not until he finds his wings seared against the metal of the electric cage where he was once champion. Thin, electric blue lines that didn’t seem to mean anything running along the length of the bone beneath the feathers. His mind flashes through all the people he can remember in his life, women and men he may have seen with some sort of mutations resembling wings where this soul-mark could have possibly be imprinted on. 

Apocalypse comes for him not long after his discovery, and when his white feathers and the skin and bones they attach to are changed to a sharp, silver metal, erasing the evidence that someone was destined to care about him, Warren though that perhaps it was destiny; that it was meant to be this way, and he was meant to be alone.

He didn’t think much about it after that, and with his newfound powers, he tries to help overhaul the world. 

You, however, stopped him. 

Or, well, the illusion you created, making yourself appear to grow gigantic, was enough to startle him, distracting him while Hank tackled him out of the air.

After apocalypse was destroyed, Warren wasn’t the happiest about being restrained, but he could see the point.

“Why does Storm get to go free?” He growled from the back of the jet you had all been picked up in.

“She doesn’t look as angry as you.” Peter answered without hesitation, to which Warren just glared, proving the point further. After a beat, he sighed, dropping his gaze.

“At least call off the fucking dogs, I’m injured, I’m not-” Warren grumbled, and as he spoke, Scott was going to comment that there wasn’t any dogs, but he caught your gaze, could see the way your eyes had been taken over by a glowing, blue light, and realised Warren was seeing another illusion. With a smirk, you were the one to interrupt the horseman.

“There’s no dogs.” You murmured, and he jumped a little at how close you were, as you had hidden yourself with your powers from him, though you were sitting beside him, next to where Hank and Erik had pulled some metal to pin his wings to the wall. After realising who you were, realising you were the one who had stopped him in the first place, his eyes narrowed. You saw the realisation cross his face, and your smile grew mischievous. After a beat, he saw your eyes glow blue and you faded from his vision, fading to dust like Apocalypse had, blowing away in the wind.

“Not funny.” He snapped, growing more irritated as the others continued to address you, telling you to ‘ _stop being cruel to the captive’_ as Peter put it, looking at the space just next to Warren’s wings where you were sitting, though he didn’t sound serious, looking with amusement between Warren and yourself.

After a few minutes of squinting at what was apparently empty air, listening to half a conversation -  _Peter’s half, he couldn’t hear yours_ \- Warren followed Peter’s gaze closely, trying to triangulate where he thought you were, and did the only thing he could in his state; he headbutted you. In an instant, you reappeared, holding your nose and swearing enough for Jean and Scott to instantly reach to cover Kurt’s ears.

“Okay, I deserved that.” Your half-chuckle through cupped hands was not what Warren had expected, and when he really looks at you, he sees that you’re bleeding, not just from your nose, but you’re littered with cuts and scraped and bruises he hadn’t seen before. Peter too, looks concerned.

“Y/N?” He asks, confused and concerned. After a beat, you look between them, and then to the concerned looks of the others.

“I’m fine.” You said, defensive and suddenly sullen. After a moment, the bruises clear up, as do the scars, and so does what appears to be a very broken nose, and the blood associated. “I’ll be fine.” You assure everyone, still defensive, as your illusion is restored. After another beat, you disappear altogether, for everyone, if the other’s reactions are anything to go by.

Warren actually adjusts to life at Xavier’s far better than anyone thought he would, actually sort of makes friends with some of the X-Men, though he’s still trying to be normal before being a superhero. He’s seen you around often, though he has the sneaking suspicion that you’re hiding yourself from him when you realised you’re nearby, because whenever he  _wants_ to find you, he can’t. 

When Scott invites him to the mall, Warren accepts with only slight hesitation; the kids truly believe in the restorative power of Charles Xavier, and Warren supposes they’re right. When he’s faced with the convertible, he does however, outright hesitate.

“You should be fine.” Jubilee smiles at him, and climbs into the front seat she was sharing with Jean. After a beat, he gritted his teeth, and went to sit on the left rather than being stuck in the centre, though both, he thought, were empty, hearing the others shouts too late. He shoots up quickly, realising that you were sitting in the “empty” left seat.

“That’s your fault, Y/N.” Muses Peter. “If you’re still being stubborn, there’s consequences.” He seemed to be the only one concerned with you, pulling you to the middle, reaching across to pat the now truly empty seat before Warren. “You should be fine,  _now_.” And he slung his arm around you in the tight-fit back seat where you, Peter, and Kurt were all crammed in. The others, however, were looking at Warren with a slight frown.

“What?!” He snapped, already irritated and confused.

“I keep forgetting about your metal wings.” Jubilee mused softly, tipping her head to the side, before looking to you, looking stubborn but visible.

“And tattoos.” Scott added.

“What does that mean? Apocalypse gave them to me,  _remember_ , I told you guys that.” Now Warren was sounding defensive, looking at his reflection in the car mirror. After a beat, everyone in the car turned to look instead, at you.

“If he looked like a horseman, the kids might be afraid of him.” Your voice was small, but you didn’t even try to hide the blush on your cheeks. After a beat, you looked up at him, eyes glowing bright blue before you looked pointedly at the mirror. There, looking back at him, was his own reflection, face clear of tattoos and his wings white and soft at his back. You wait with baited breath for his reaction.

“I-” Seeing himself like this, he doesn’t have the heart to be angry. “Thank you.” He mumbles, and sits in the car quietly. The moment breaks when Peter blows a raspberry and declares that character growth sucked, though you smacked him on the arm, and the two girls in the front admonished him while Scott started the car.

“Why aren’t they looking at us?” Warren asks, stretching his wings out where he’s at the back of the group of mutants, lead by and excited Kurt.

“Why do you think,  _Arc_?” You smirked, your own illusion dropping just on your face as your turned to him to show him your blue glowing eyes. He also noted that your nose shifted with the illusion, and that when you dropped it, he could clearly see it was broken.

“ _Arc_?” He asked, and after a beat you put up the facial illusion turning away from him. The simple act, the quiet trust the moment implied, the  _nickname_ , it caused something in Warren to grow warm, a smile twitching at the edge of his lips.

“Like  _Archangel_.” Your smirk was clear in his words and Warren just rolled his eyes, hiding his smile as he looked away. He was going to ask something else, but he wasn’t sure what else he wanted to ask in the middle of the mall, and instead he closed his mouth, watching as you bounced forward reaching to tug Peter towards the food court.

A few of the group members’ tattoos’ are easy to spot; Ororo has a sunshine yellow lightning bolt on the back of her neck, it pair being much harder to spot on Jean, unless she has her hair up. Scott has a perfect circle in blood red on the back of his left hand. Kurt’s got a set of silver dots that look like stars against his right shoulder.

Peter claims that his is in an inappropriate place, but it looks like a blue, comic-book explosion. 

‘Ribs’ is all you tell him about yours, and he’s not sure if it’s the placement, the shape, or even if you were lying, though even if you were stark naked, he knows you’d still probably hide it, illusion it away… not that he’d considered the thought of you naked… at least not more than… however many times was the acceptable amount of times for someone illusive, attractive, and who intrigued him. Everyone else acts as though they’ve seen your tattoo, however, so perhaps it’s that you don’t fully trust him yet. A lot of progress has been made, but he senses there’s still a long way to go.

In turn, he ends up telling everyone about the blue lines on his wings, how they disappeared with his natural wings. They’re all sitting around in the living room, you’re tucked up against Peter in a seat clearly designed for one, and Warren doesn’t like to think about how it makes something in his gut twist. 

The two of you had been getting along recently, had actually been hanging out;  _he apologised for breaking your nose, to which you flushed, dropping your gaze for a moment and letting the illusion slide. The two of you were in the library, sitting on either end of a two-seated sofa, a book in your lap since you had been reading and he had come to find you. He watched with fascination, and a little horror, as your nose shifted just enough to look healed but once broken. You, in turn, apologised for hiding from him for so long._

_“I was a dick to you when we first met, and you broke my nose because of it,” you admitted, “I didn’t think you’d want to see me… and I was still bitter.” After a moment, he leaned back, dropping his head to his shoulder to watch you as you avoided his gaze.  
_

_“But still, you made me look…” he paused for a moment, choosing his words, “approachable, helped me here, for like… two months without me even realising.”  
_

_“I made you look cute.” You mused, with a condescending smile, leaning over to pinch his cheek. “It was just so you wouldn’t be mistaken as a robot by some six-year-old.” You tried to justify, but you were blushing even so.  
_

_“Cute?” He asked. “You think I’m cute like that? All… angelic and shit?” He laughed, but after a beat, your smile turned to something a little confused._

_“Arc,” he had come to love the nickname, the way you said it, “I can’t see the illusions after I start casting them.”  
_

_“So you… you see the metal? And the tattoos?” He asked, and softly, your hand moved up to trace the metallic tattoos on his cheek, nodding.  
_

_“But this is cute too.” You told him, voice gentle, after a beat you withdrew your hand. “To me, at least.” You admonished, knowing he had mixed feelings about the physical reminders of Apocalypse. Despite this, your eyes dropped to his lips for a moment._

_“I don’t think Maximoff would be okay with you saying these sorts of things.” The words slip from his mouth and you move back as if you had been burned, looking back at his eyes.  
_

_“Peter’s not my handler, I can say whatever I want.” You snapped, and Warren’s eyebrows rose.  
_

_“Isn’t he your soulmate?” He asked, and you wrinkled your nose.  
_

_“What about ‘_ ribs’  _makes you think of blue, comic-book crotch explosion?” You asked._

_“I just assumed-” He tried to backpedal, but you rolled your eyes, disappearing before his very eyes. The sofa didn’t shift, though, so he knew you hadn’t left.  
_

_“You’d be more attractive if you weren’t such a dumbass, Arc.” The air beside him informs him, and he feels light pressure on his hand, as you moved gently to keep him aware of your presence, knowing he’s narcissistic enough to focus on the good portion of the backhanded compliment.  
_

_“But those are dangerous territories, love,” he mused, smiling down at where he knew you were going to reappear, his grin widening as your own faded in, along with the rest of you, looking up, he stretched his arms across the back of the sofa, grinning with a cocky aura, “_ more  _attractive? I’m not sure you could handle it.” After a beat, he looked down, it was unlike you to not respond; there was something mischievous, but fond in your eyes when he caught your gaze, smiling at him in a way he’d never really seen before, bold, almost. After a beat, your hand reaches up to gently pull him down and into a kiss._

_It was warm, but brief, however Warren could still feel his heart hammer in his chest as you moved back down, resting you head against his thighs._

_“Be less of a dumbass and we’ll find out.” You teased, before turning, lying on your side, facing away from him, book in hand as you began to read. “And it looks like ribs, sort of… on my ribs.” You conceded, casually, as if nothing had happened.  
_

The memory played in his head, and he saw Jean hide a smile behind her hand, before turning to you.

“Y/N? Could you drop the illusions for a moment, perhaps it’s still there?” Jean asked, and after a beat, you closed your eyes, letting yourself sink further into Peter’s casual embrace. As Warren’s image changed to show his horseman features, he noticed yours change too, your nose shifting, the illusion rippling just beneath the back of your t-shirt, though he couldn’t see exactly what had changed. “Oh.” Jean’s eyebrows rose. “She dropped all of them.” She informed the rest of the gathered mutants, who all hummed thoughtfully.

You looked… exhausted, Warren noted as he stood still, allowing Jean and Jubilee to examine his wings.

“What colour?” Jubilee asked, and he responded  _blue_ without hesitation, not paying her much attention. Looking instead at where a thin set of blue lines were visible when you shifted against Peter, the collar of your pyjama shirt moving to expose just a little of your back by your shoulder. His focus had caught Jean’s attention, and just as Jubilee mused that ‘ _nope, I think it’s still here, just engraved’,_ Jean moved to you, pulling you to your feet.

“Y/N, I think we were wrong.” She sounded  _so excited_ , and you simply yawned in response, which Warren thought was adorable, but still didn’t know what Jean was implying. You did, however, slap her hands away when she tried pulling up the back of your shirt, letting the illusion ripple to hide what must have been your soul-mark. “No, please, listen to me.” Jean implored, moving you to stand behind Warren. “Warren, curl up your wings as tightly as you can, as close to you as possible.” Warren frowned, but did so.

“ _Oh_ …” You gasped, quietly, eyes wide, and at your exclamation, Warren turned, a little self conscious, however you looked shocked, not negative, though Jean was beaming. With little force, Jean swivelled you around, lifting your shirt over your head from the back so your arms were still in it, and your chest was covered by the fabric.

“Y/N, they’re…” She sighed, hand on your back, and after a beat, the skin shifted to show, covering the entirety of her back, what appeared to be a weird skeletal structure in  _electric blue_ , something that could be misconstrued as a set of very strange, curved ribs, but in this new light, was obviously; “ _wings_.”

“They’re  _my_ wings.” 


	2. Centuries {Peter Maximoff}

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Peter/Reader soulmate au set sort of during/mostly post-XMA. everyone’s born with a counter on their wrist counting down to when they’ll meet their soulmate. have fun. (TA is teacher’s assistant; reader is mid-20s)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tumblr: starforgedthor
> 
> unedited. a mess. listen i genuinely don’t know what this is.

> _72:00:20_

“You’re gonna meet him soon.” You’re on a day trip to Broadway with the drama class you’re TA of when the world goes to shit, and now you’re sitting on a bus as the world is torn apart around you. However, the real problem is your asshole, precognitive, best friend and fellow TA in the seat next to you.

“Yeah right, with my luck, my soulmate’s a moleman and we meet because he’s literally ripped out of the Earth.” Beside you, another building’s metal foundations are torn out and soar off into the horizon. The bus is vibrating ominously.

“Not a moleman.” They grinned knowingly -  _unsurprising, that vague prick_ \- before they tipped their head thoughtfully, eyes glazing over as they did whenever they were focusing on a vision. “But he is an asshole.” You found yourself stuck between a sarcastic ‘ _well great’_ and ‘ _don’t joke like that, you know it’s not funny’_  but the words stick in your throat, and all you can do is look at the little counter on your wrist.

Unlike most other people you knew, you were pretty sure your soulmate countdown was broken. Since the day you were born, it had never worked right; the clock counted down in hours until you and your soulmate would meet, and your clock had  _so many numbers_ that it wrapped around your tiny infant wrist like a tattooed bracelet; the doctors told your disheartened mother that it would be over a century until you found your soulmate. However, some time around August, when you were ten years old, the counter had begun to jump down rapidly, sometimes even months at a time, annoying you and confusing everyone around you. It had been  _years_ since the numbers had behaved with any sense of normalcy, and the counter as a whole had become a sore subject that you vehemently denied discussing. Mostly you tried to pretend it didn’t exist, because there was no way it meant  _anything_ , and if it did, it couldn’t be good.

It didn’t stop you wondering, as you watched it jump down a few minutes at a time before your very eyes… Still, your best friend’s visions had never been wrong before.

 

> _18:51:03_

No. This couldn’t be happening. This stupid thing is broken, it must be; it’s been almost a full twenty-four hours since you last saw it jump. Somehow  _this_ , above everything else is what you’re concerned with, above finding a crater where your school was, above meeting a CIA agent calling herself Moira proclaiming that Charles is in the hospital and that the world has been saved. Well, those aren’t her exact words, but it’s what she means, and Professor McCoy is by her side, so Charles must be alright. You comply easily as you and your students are hoarded to a nearby lodge that was abandoned in a panic and that the government will  _totally_ pay for them to stay at if anyone realises they’re there.

This, of course, means you’re free to brood by a window for as long as you please, glaring at your wrist as it counts down normally. Of course  _now_ it makes you wait.

Of course you had pictured in your head what your soulmate like be like; when you were a child, your first thought would be that he would look like your grandfather, which scarred you for a good few years, so instead you pictured a soft-face woman, reminiscent of your grandmother, who would make you cookies and read you bedtime stories. Your understand grew as you did, and as a teenager your imagination runs wild, picturing yourself as a world traveller, adventuring, exploring, and searching for your one true love in the remote corners of the world. You were never sure of their gender, but they were always beautiful and successful, a self-indulgent fantasy that you found sad to even entertain. As an adult, you simply pictured the clock counting down to zero, and looking up into the eyes of someone whose smile felt like home. 

 

> 02:06:57

“Are you sure they’re alright to come here so soon?” Moira’s voice was low, talking to Hank in the kitchen when most of the kids were in bed. You hadn’t meant to be eavesdropping, but you’re pretty sure you can hear every second tick by and it’s making you antsy.

“Erik hasn’t left Charles’s side since he was admitted and Charles doesn’t have the strength to keep Erik invisible forever.” Hank sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose, exasperated. Moira clicked her tongue. “And before you ask, even Charles knows not to exert Jean like that after what happened, also she has morals when it comes to mass-murderers.”

“I know I shouldn’t be suggesting this, but-” Moira sounds genuinely nervous as she speaks, but after a brief hesitation she goes on, “could you smuggle out all the equipment, you know, keeping him alive?” From what you know of the rest of the city, it’s a surprise there’s even a hospital standing, but if Erik is the same Erik as  _Magneto_ , anything was possible. Hank agrees, but he doesn’t sound like he wants to.

 

> 00:01:38

You had fallen asleep in the common room, waiting for Hank to return to make sure the Professor was okay- which was a total lie, you were secretly terrified that Magneto was your soulmate and were suddenly totally comfortable with the idea of sleeping through that meeting time. 

Woken by a terrifyingly fast and consistent knocking on the front door, you don’t even think to look at your counter as you stand, bleary-eyed and annoyed, to open it.

“ _Open up! The world-savers have arrived!_ ” The voice on the other side is unfamiliar, but annoying and in mild danger of waking up the students.

“ _It’s three in the fucking morning; there is_ no need  _for that_.” An unfamiliar, lightly accented voice snaps, irritatingly familiar until the door unlocks itself before you get to it and you realise it’s Magneto, voice unchanged from the speech he gave over a decade ago at the Washington Summit.  _Shit._

Standing dumbfounded in the hallway, you watch as the door swings open of its own accord and you’re suddenly overcome by a yawn, scrubbing a hand over your weary face. Stopping dead, mid-yawn, your attention looks at the counter as it clicks down the final seconds, and you hear the annoying voice from before.

“Did I wake you?” He’s not a moleman, he’s a silver-haired guy with his leg in a cast and crutches under his arms, eyes bright in a way that means he’s on some sort of pain medication and low on sleep. You shake your head, mouth still half-open in shock, and he steps over the threshold, letting  _Magneto, holy shit_ , pass by, and Hank roll in the Professor, along with a heavy-duty array of machinery that Jean is squinting at furiously, making it follow Charles telekinetically, greeting you with a half-aware hand wave. Like a bolt of lightning had hit him, Peter’s moving at the speed of light, rolling up the sleeve of his jacket.  
  
“I think I’m meant to be meeting my soulmate soon,” he’s definitely on  _something_ , as his mouth is moving a mile a minute, and he’s squinting at the wrong wrist, “I hope its not a student,” he half laughs, “that would be  _weird!”_ He’s holding out his non-counter hand out to you, trying to pull back the sleeve of his other wrist with his teeth, “I’m Peter, by the way-” bemusedly, you shake his hand, but he’s suddenly gone very stiff.

“I’m [Y/N].” You say, slowly, shaking his hand weakly as his gaze lifts to meet yours, incredulous smile on his face. Already you can feel a blush work it’s way up your cheeks, but the look in his eyes isn’t creepy or dangerous, it’s something almost grateful, bordering on adoration and…  _relief._  “I’m your soulmate.”


	3. #BeautyWithTheBoys {Zoe Sugg}

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Imagine you and Zoe are the beauty guru power couple on YouTube and some of the Brit boys start coming to you guys for self care tips and it becomes a thing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tumblr: dilhowltersgaycousin
> 
> A/N: This was inspired by Dan and Zoe’s #beautywithdan tweets. AU where Zalfie are just friends.

These boys were absolutely hopeless honestly. First it was Dan and his face mask, which, honestly, not his fault, you had struggled the first few times so you couldn’t honestly blame him. Then it was Joe, via text, wondering if it was too girly for him to go for a manicure;

_It’s not like I’m getting them painted or anything, it’s just like… a nail chop and a hand rub, right?_

And you should have known that the hashtags were going to be blown out of proportion, just like they always were. #beautywithdan was harmless enough, it was pretty sweet, honestly and the fans weren’t too over the top. A day after Joe’s texts Zoe had asked his permission before tweeting:

_@ZoZeeBo: @Joe_Sugg is jumping on the bandwagon. Good thing @(Y/Twitter/N) and I were there to help. #beautywithjoe :)_

And, as expected, with no context for the tweet, the fandom blew up. There were tweets and tumblr messages and instagram comments all wondering and loving the idea of the guys doing traditionally feminine things. It actually went better than expected when a week later the two of you got a call from Joe and Caspar wondering if the two of them could do a video on it.

“What are you on about, Joe?” Zoe asked, halfway through her cereal as you walked downstairs, still in your pyjamas and yawning in the morning light. Zoe smiled at you and pulled the phone away from her ear, “Just a sec, broseph, I’m putting you on speaker, (Y/N)’s just woken up.” She said, placing the phone on the counter.

“Morning, lovely.” You mumbled, hugging her from behind and pressing a kiss to her cheek.

“Morning yourself, sweetie,” she hummed back, leaning into the embrace, momentarily forgetting about the phone, before Joe’s voice cut through the warm silence.

“Alright, that’s it lovebirds, break it up, I’ve got serious things to talk about.” He said in his mock-serious voice. You laughed, but uncurled yourself from Zoe, who leaned forward placing her elbows on the counter, to get yourself some breakfast.

“What’s up, Joe? What’s so urgent that it couldn’t wait until ten in the morning?” You asked, opening the fridge and pulling out a tub of yogurt.

“OK, so you know how I went for that manicure thing? Well turns out us guys have been missing out because I think my hands died and went to hand heaven-”

“Joe are you vlogging this?” You asked, “you’re not usually so animated.”

“Yes, because I’m betting on you guys agreeing.” He admitted and you grinned fondly, but rolled your eyes, rinsing off a spoon. Anyway, the ladies there were so nice and I look like - like - like the hand equivalent of a fancy suit, OK?” Both you and Zoe could hear Caspar laugh in the background.

“He’s been talking like this all week.”

“Shut up, I’m going to prove how good it is-” He paused, before apparently turning back to the phone, “But here’s where I need you guys help,” you and Zoe hummed in agreement, “the manicure thing was way more expensive than I thought it would be, and Caspar’s my mate, but I’m not paying for his manicure.” You chuckled, knowing where this was heading. “Is there some sort of product or something that I could get that’s not ridiculously expensive to show Caspar that caring about yourself doesn’t make you a girl-”

“I said  _dainty_.”

“Well I’m not a doily, I’m a man, OK?”

“Fine, Joe, just chill out.” Caspar chuckled.

So it was decided, the four of you were going to meet up in London the following day, you would film a ‘Follow Me Around Lush’ video, go back to Joe and Caspar’s apartment where Zoe could film a haul video and then multitask with a two-part ‘Q and A’ for Joe and Caspar’s channels while the boys got a beauty treatment.

“Alright, is there anything in particular you guys wanted to try?” You asked, camera facing them. Caspar giggled at your wording, but Joe simply wiggled his fingers. You chuckled to yourself and nodded.

“What do you think they would like?” Zoe asked, beside you, holding your hand that wasn’t filming.

“I was thinking some lemony flutter-” You were cut short by Joe loudly talking to Caspar.

“Is that a cupcake flavoured thing? What is that?” He asked, making his way over to it.

“I don’t care, dude, cupcake flavoured anything and I’m  _there_.” Caspar said, seriously, following his room-mates path. You and Zoe watched, almost helpless, before you sighed.

“Maybe we should leave them to it and get our things separately.” You considered.

“Sounds good.” Zoe agreed, pecking you on the cheek, “Although I would like to try that cupcake face mask.” She said, and you laughed, nodding.

“Same, it sounds awesome.” The two of you headed deeper into the store, giggling and chatting to each other as you selected a large range of products, both for the boys and for the two of you to take home. About ten minutes in, your phone buzzed with a twitter alert.

_@Caspar_Lee: @Lush with @Joe_Sugg everything smells so good but we’ve lost our tour guides! _@ZoZeeBo @(Y/Twitter/N)__

_@Joe_Sugg: @Lush What are Body Tints? What is Dusting Powder? @Caspar_Lee and I are very confused. _ _@ZoZeeBo @(Y/Twitter/N)__  come find us please!_

__@ _ _ _(Y/Twitter/N)___ : @Caspar_Lee @ _ _ _(Y/Twitter/N)___  Got lost because they wanted to look at the cupcake face masks. Watching these boys with  _ _@ZoZeeBo is like looking after puppies.___    
_

The four of you managed to find one another, collect a few tubs of cupcake face masks and make your way back to the boy’s apartment with little fuss.

You began editing your video while Zoe filmed her haul and Caspar and Joe looked on in fascination. 

“So you’re… gonna put that on us?” Joe asked, and you looked up from your computer. Zoe had just finished filming her outro and was buzzing about, preparing for the faux salon treatment.

“Some of it,” you answered, closing the laptop and going to help your girlfriend. “Some is for us, like the bath bombs.” You said, taking a deep sniff of one labelled ‘Twilight’.

“Oh, OK.” Joe said, sitting on the bed and crossing his legs, waiting expectantly. Caspar sat next to him, eyes glued to his phone. “What’s up, mate?” Joe asked, and Caspar showed him the phone. Joe burst out laughing before he turned the phone to show you. On the screen, there were three tweets:

 _@ZoZeebo: I’ve realised that all I really want is my babe and a bath bomb <3 @(Y/Twitter/N)_ 

_@Caspar_Lee: @Joe_Sugg and me are getting pampered by _@ZoZeeBo and @(Y/Twitter/N) so tweet us your questions with #BeautyWithJaspar__

___@MarcusButler: @ZoZeeBo _ _@(Y/Twitter/N)__ _#BeautyWithJaspar__  sounds like fun. Can @PointlessBlog and I join next time? #BeautyWithMalfie_ _

You got out your own phone to see the tweets while Joe and Caspar laughed, scrolling through the hashtag and deciding on questions.

“Hey babe,” you said to Zoe, and showed her the tweets. Zoe laughed.

“Looks like we’ve started something.” She mused, wrapping an arm around you waist, smiling. “It would be a shame to let all these extra face masks go to waste.” She hinted.

___@(Y/Twitter/N): @MarcusButler _ _@PointlessBlog _ _ _ _ _ _@ZoZeeBo________ Sounds like a plan!_ _ _


	4. Talk Shit. Get Hit. {Gally}

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anon Asked: Can you do an imagine where Gally punishes y/n by spanking and doin the frick frack with her please?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tumblr: queermazerunner
> 
> Author’s Notes: I didn’t write the smut because it already was (and took) way too long, but it leads into it, so use your imaginations??? Sorry it’s late…
> 
> WARNING: Spanking, sexual content. NSFW

“Gally, did you break  _another_ door?” You asked, smirk on your lips. You had been working on reinforcing a falling down section of the roof in one of the smaller rooms of the homestead when you heard his annoyed swear. The Keeper of the Builders span around, frowning.

“You say that like I break stuff all the time.” He snapped as the door behind him creaked ominously, hanging by a single set of hinges. Your eyes were drawn to it and you raised your eyebrows, smirk growing wider into a full grin.

“The great and mighty Keeper of the Builders isn’t as fantastical as he says.” You hum smugly.

He narrowed his eyes at you, before catching the door as it made an arc towards him, “That’s enough out of you, go get me a screwdriver.” He huffed. The toolbox sat at your feet, propped open. You could see the screwdriver wedged beneath a spanner, but you didn’t make a move to get it.

“What’s in it for me?” You asked, and Gally groaned, actually groaned, in frustration.

“Don’t be a brat.” He snapped, his fingers curled around the top of the door like the giant he was. He shuffled over as much as he could, awkwardly hopping on one foot while trying to reach out to the toolbox with the other. The sight was obviously hilarious and you toed the box further out of his reach. His frown deepened. “Fine.” He huffed out a sigh of anger and wedged the door into the doorframe, keeping it both upright and in place he glowered as he stalked over to you, yanking you to the chair in the corner of the room. “If you act like a child, you’re gonna get spanked.” He said. You couldn’t help it, you laughed.

His expression was on the negative side of neutral and your laughter died in your throat.

“You’re kidding, right?” You scoffed, crossing your arms over your chest, standing over the Keeper as he sat, waiting patiently.

“It’s this, or a month working as a Slicer, it’s up to you.” He offered, and you winced, your whole body rejecting that idea with a shudder.

“Gally, this isn’t fair.” You cried, shifting your weight from one foot to the other. You avoided Gally’s gaze, feeling your face heat up. You had had a pretty big crush on Gally for a while now; at first you thought he was a total jerk, but as you spent more time with him, helping him expand the Homestead and repair the buildings, you could actually see he was a pretty great guy, not to mention actually pretty hot, if it wasn’t for those eyebrows… Which is why you didn’t want his smacking your ass right now. Wow, that sounded better in your head than in the situation.

“I can just go get Winston-” He began to get out of his chair, startling you from your thoughts.

“No!” You blurted, before smacking your hands over your mouth and sighing angrily, “Shuck it, fine.” You sighed, trying to ignore the blush you could feel on your cheeks, hoping he couldn’t see it as your torso rested across his lap. You buried your face in your hands, mostly from embarrassment, as you felt the first hit. You yelped with surprise and couldn’t help but squirm, hardly given a moment before he smacked you again.

“This isn’t working…” He muttered to himself, and you barely had a moment to think about his words before he yanked down your shorts, exposing your ass and knickers. You pressed your hand to your mouth, muffling a squeak of surprise, certain that your face couldn’t get any warmer, it was practically burning. It actually wasn’t the only thing, a warm feeling of desire had spread through your lower abdomen after the third spank, and you realised that you sort of liked it, or maybe you were just too far gone for Gally.

I should not be turned on right now, you thought glumly to yourself after the fifth, hanging your head in shame at the pleasure you were feeling. Then, the slaps stopped and Gally was weirdly still.

“What did you just say?” He asked, to which you let out a strange, high-pitched whine, realising you hadn’t just thought it.

“Shuck, did I say that out loud?” You groaned, wiggling out of his lap and pulling your pants up. He didn’t stop you, he actually seemed like he was trying his hardest not to look at you.

“That wasn’t… um… that wasn’t meant to-” He was suddenly tense, watching his hands as they fidgeted in his lap. You groan internally and wail with you’re own self criticisms. You’ve done it now, he’ll never want to talk to you again, let alone anything else.

“It wasn’t the hitting-” You blurted, quickly, and his head snapped up, confusion overriding his embarrassment. You licked your lips and avoided his gaze, “I mean, I don’t think hitting’s, you know… arousing.” You finished, lamely, which only made him more confused.

“What?” Was his only reply. You paused, blanching and swallowing hard, before hardening your resolve and looking him in the eye.

“The spanking wasn’t nice but I liked you touching my butt.” All or nothing now, you thought to yourself. Gally choked out a startled laugh and you smiled weakly back, dropping your gaze. “I couldn’t have picked a worse moment to tell you that I liked you.” You mutter, a weird mitter of bitterness and laughter in your voice. There’s a sudden flurry of movement and it takes your mind a moment to process the fact that Gally had stood up and strode over to you, bending down to kiss you hard. You made an alarmed sound and pushed on his chest, to which he stumbled back, watching you. “What is happening?” You asked, trying not to laugh at the absurdity of it all.

“I want to kiss you (Y/N). I’ve wanted that for a while now.” He said, not hint of a joke in his voice. “I want you.” You broke out into a grin and stepped forward, reaching your arms up to wrap around his neck, bring him down for another kiss.

“Good. Me too.” You said, before going back in, your voice husky with desire. Now that you were both on the same page, there was no real reason to deny the hot, needy feeling growing in your belly, the one that grew with his every touch. “Who knew,” you managed between frantic kisses, amusement in your voice, “that it would only take you breaking a door-” you yelped as he bit your lower lip, pulling back to raise his eyebrows at you.

“That was not my fault.” He said, a hint of warning in his voice. You laughed, jumping to wrap your legs around his waist. His hands gripped your ass and kept you in the air as he moved to press you against a wall.

“Sure, sure.” Your voice was playful as was the sparkle in your eyes as he began kissing lower, lips trailing along your jawline. You gasped as he suddenly began sucking on the juncture of your neck, and he pulled back, smirking.

“Does this mean you’re going to stop pissing me off?” He asked, and you laughed, loud and harsh.

“No way.” You crowed, and his smirk grew wider, into something more dangerous. You held his gaze and you both knew what was going to happen, both knew the want and the desire the other felt, that had been restrained for so long. He maneuvered enough for the both of you to begin to undress, and still keep your mouths on one another, thank the creators for button down shirts.

His voice was low and husky and sent shivers down your spine. “Good.”


	5. Animus {Kylo Ren}

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anon asked: Okokok so I j read the imagine abt being best friends w young ben solo and being in love and it was s o cute so can you do one that’s fast forwarded to telegram future when he’s already been turned but he sees the reader again and everything (all those memories and feelings) come floooding back ?
> 
> juliatakescz asked: oneshot were you and ben were together when you two were younger. on a resistance mission you’re captured, but you look really different, and kylo goes to interrogate you but doesn’t realize it’s you until he looks in your mind? lots of angst please?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tumblr: thelastimagine
> 
> A/N: and old prompt and a new one. this is just gonna be a short one (hopefully), but i love it and i couldn’t refuse. Pre-TFA, unedited, you’re gonna have a sad time.

He’s Kylo Ren, prodigy of the First Order, of Snoke, the Jedi Killer, and-

He’s  _Kylo Ren_ , and that’s all that matters now. 

For the first few years after joining the First Order, after being gifted a TIE-Fighter of his very own, he made a point of shooting Resistance ships out of the sky, as if trying to destroy the very memory of the name  _Ben Solo._

He hasn’t thought about you in a very long time, nor his mother or father, but they are a choice. Snoke thinks you’re  _special_. And perhaps you are, but  ~~Ben~~   _Kylo_ can’t know that.

So how was he to know when your ship was beamed aboard the Finalizer? You had just been trying to get some information from a contact on a First Order controlled planet; there was always a chance, a  _danger_ , but you never thought they’d capture you. Your life for the Resistance was fine, but to give up information? Unthinkable.

Your holding cell is barren, smelling of only your own sweat, blood, and the durasteel that held the room together. You could hear the heavy thudding of boots from the other end of the hallway, and the guards who had been quietly murmuring to each other went absolutely silent, looking the picture of innocence, apart from where your blood had been smeared on the white of their gauntlets. They hadn’t gotten anything out of you, but the sound of the footsteps filled you with a new, unfamiliar fear. The footsteps pass, and the Stormtroopers go back to talking amongst themselves, but not before knocking you out.

“It seems Kylo Ren isn’t ready for you yet.” Is the last thing you hear, and the snear in the speaker’s voice is palpable. Kylo Ren you  _had_ heard of, and it’s with fear crawling up your spine that you’re forced into a restless state of unconsciousness.

He doesn’t recognise you. He looks at your face for a full minute and doesn’t recognise you. He calls you by your name and  _doesn’t recognise you_.

Sure, you had changed considerably, a few more scars from battles hard won, hair styled differently as you were want to do in order to keep a low profile, your clothes rough, as if scraped together from the Republic’s surplus uniform material. The busted lip and black eye were certainly new, courtesy of the Stormtroopers. There was none of the elegance that your diplomatic young life had afforded you with. Now you were Leia’s right hand, Lieutenant of the Resistance, and according to the Stormtroopers,  _Public Enemy Number Two_ , with only the General herself above you.

“[Y/N], what a surprise.” His voice is deadpan. You are still unconscious. With a single raised hand, he uses the Force to slam your head back, awaking you with a start and a loud swear. Your situation comes flooding back to you and your follow-up swears die in your throat.

“You’re taller than I expected.” As you say the words, something in your mind aches, a memory of Ben, strangely tall as a fifteen-year-old, who even then was a good foot higher than his mother. Kylo Ren is silent.

“How is it,” he advances towards you as he speaks, voice filtered through his mask, the cadence of it, however, familiar, “that the others cannot even get out of you the name of a planet?”

“We’re made of stronger stuff, I suppose.” Your words are surprisingly brave and are completely at odds with the fear in your voice. He takes another step forwards. The terror you exude is practically tangible. “I will not give you the Resistance.  _I will not give you Leia_.” 

Never has he come across a Resistance member who mentions the General -  _his mother_ \- by name, who’s so adamant about protecting her above the whole Resistance. It appears the rumours were true, you really were the General’s right hand.

“Then I will  _take_ her from you, by whatever means necessary.” He hissed, his hand raising with an air of menace. 

Kylo Ren was skilled at making his way through people’s minds, whether it be with ease, silently, making no disturbance, just pulling out the information and moving on, or he could make it  _hurt_ , make them feel each memory he touched as if he had pressed a branding iron to their flesh; though he was no Bor Gullet, he could certainly make his victims feel his malevolent intent. And with you? Someone potentially crucial to the Resistance, to  _Leia_? He wanted to  _destroy_ you.

For the first few moments he did, tearing through the surface level thoughts, your fear and guilt at having being captured, your fluttering heart urging your screaming mind to just accept death. It’s as though he’s taken his lightsaber to the memories of your Resistance battles, lashing out at your victories over dead Stormtroopers. With tender strokes he made short work of looking through your recent memories with Leia, trying to find the root of your attachment to her, making each memory as excruciating as the last.

But then his own face was looking back at him through your mind’s eye.

The world around him stops; but the world in your mind starts up.

“ _You’re taller than I expected.” The Ben in your mind smirks at that, jumping off of the podium where he was addressing a bunch of twelve-year-olds armed with sticks and rubber band guns, none of them old enough to be trusted with anything even close to a real gun, so they work with what they’ve cobbled together. You can see the blaster sitting in a holster by his hip, but it looks old. You’ll learn much later that it’s his mother’s, from the Rebellion, it’s-_

_\- later now, much later, perhaps even a year; you’re sitting on the counter of his kitchen, he’s cooking something but you can’t see what from this angle. He puts a half-cooked vegetable in his mouth and his eyes close with contentment before he offers some to you, it’s good, it’s-_

_\- earlier now, you’re watching him, his eyes bright as he looks up at the ceiling, he’s got one hand behind his head, the other pointed towards the sky projected on his roof. You don’t look at the stars; he’s blinding in comparison, when he smiles at you, asking if you’re listening, you nod emphatically, how could you not be listening? He’s so passionate, it’s mesmerising, it’s-_

_\- midnight, or close to it, you’re exhausted, but he’s asleep, head on your lap, holotape playing out a movie a few metres away. He looks so peaceful, you brush a strand of hair behind his ears just as you hear a sound. Looking behind you, you see Leia shuffling around in her pyjamas, soft and unguarded as her son, filling a glass with water._

_“He really cares about you, you know?” And you do know. You know because-  
_

_\- he’s smiling at you, one hand rubbing his forehead, looking up at you like you hang the stars in the sky. The things from his teenage room,_ things that Kylo Ren remembers as he watches this memory through your eyes _, scatter about the floor, his history text book, his calligraphy set, his one treasured photograph._ Kylo Ren remembers that photograph now, remembers this whole scene as it plays out, only from his perspective. He remembers your smile, the way you laughed at his antics, how he would go to the end of the universe if it meant hearing you laugh like that again. _He loves you, you both know this. It’s there in his eyes, in this memory._

_It’s there in his words._

_“I love you too.”_

“Get out of this ship.” He snarled, and you look  _absolutely terrified_. He feels sick to his stomach after the influx of memories; he’s never wanted to hurt you, even now he doesn’t. Confused and scared you can only topple to the floor as he breaks the lock for your wrist bindings with his bare hands. “Do you know who I am?” You’re  _crawling_ to the door when he speaks, but he hasn’t made a move to come after you.

“You’re Kylo Ren.” There’s a shake in your voice that he  _loathes_. You’re scared of  _him_ , of the boy you loved, and he feels guilt well up inside him. Snoke’s words echo through his mind,  _destroy the past, kill it if you have to_ , but he doesn’t have to. You don’t know who he is, you’re afraid of  _Kylo Ren,_ and the memory of  _Ben Solo_  is merely that. On top of that, he’s forced you to give up the location of the Resistance, which he had promptly forgotten as he received the influx of new memories, of old feelings, though you don’t know this. He’s destroyed you, and though he realise it, as soon as you take one stumbling step out the door, the Stormtroopers will finish the job.


	6. Anticipating {Rey}

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anon asked: can you do a one shot of bb-8 trying to get rey to confess her feelings for the reader?
> 
> Anon asked: literally anything with rey I love her so much tbh!!!! (Female pronouns for reader)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tumblr: thelastimagine
> 
> A/N: so this is about 600 years old and i apologise. have fun. little bit of stormpilot thrown in there. unedited.

There was a sense of camaraderie Rey and Finn shared, being raised in hostility, learning to express themselves without fear of punishment or rejection. The shift was jarring, and everyone was so  _nice_  and wanted to  _help_  and sometimes Rey liked to remind them that she could do things herself and-

“I’m grabbing lunch, want me to get you anything?” Rey was curled partially inside the Falcon, taking a look at some wiring that had been damaged on Starkiller Base that she hadn’t gotten to before leaving to train. Now she was back, had a spare moment, and everyone from General Organa to BB-8 wanted to pass her a wrench or tell her how to fix the ship  _she_  had rescued, that  _she_ had studied.

“I know how to get myself lunch.” She snapped reflexively, jerking to an upright position, banging her head on the way. When she recovered, she saw the crestfallen expression of a pilot she knew only as ‘ _The One With the A-Wing_ ’.

“You just- you seemed pretty invested.” The pilot’s weight was balanced on the balls of her feet, fidgeting with her hands as if she were stopping herself from going to the Jedi in training. “And I know you can get yourself lunch- I- sorry.” There was a nervous energy to the pilot that hadn’t been there before, genuine concern that she was trying to push down, embarrassed that she had possibly offended a  _Jedi_.

“What is your name?” Rey asked, grabbing a rag and wiping the grease from her hands, trying to clear her mind the way Master Luke had taught her. This girl was only trying to help,

“Me?” The pilot asked, eyes wide, something almost imperceptibly shifting in her demeanor. She was still nervous, but there was something slightly awed about the way she regarded Rey. “[Y/N]!” She responded, before wincing at her overzealous introduction. Rey smiled at her enthusiasm, and though it was nervous, the pilot smiled back.

The pilot is quiet, Rey learned, this is her default setting, quiet and kind and always ready to lend a hand, when able. She spends most of her time buried in her own ship, always making modifications, upgrades, chattering away to the droids about what they think she should do next. BB-8 is of the firm opinion that the next step is to paint her ship bright orange, and Rey has to stifle a giggle as the pilot explains that it would just make her a target. When the droid rolls away, the pilot meets Rey’s gaze, with a grin mirroring the padawan’s. Something tightens in Rey’s chest when she sees it, and she tries not to think about it too hard.

It gets worse, with every moment she spends with the pilot, Rey can feel herself being suffocated by her own thoughts. You’d adjusted yourself to fit her without even realising, it seemed like you were always there when she needed someone to talk to, though you were never patronising. After your first interaction, you’d never offered to do something for her, instead, you’d ask her to tag along, you made her feel invited without even trying.

“I think it’s a pilot thing.” Finn had mused while watching Black Squadron prepare for a mission, both he and Rey sitting in the Falcon’s cockpit that overlooked the opening of the aircraft hangar, as the woman replaced some faulty wires in the dashboard. His starry-eyed gaze was focused on Poe, who turned, grinning brightly at Finn, before giving him a wink and ascending the ladder to his cockpit, beginning his pre-flight checks. Rey huffs, her stomach fluttering as she looked up in time to see you bounding into the hangar, zipping up your flight suit with one hand as you carried your helmet in the other.

“You saved his life and he’s not exactly shy about how he feels about you, yours is not a universal experience, Finn.” Rey shot back at her friend, who was silent as the two watched you across the hanger as you stopped, gave a small wave and a shy smile to the pair.

“So how do you feel about her?” Finn asked, turning his attention away from you as you made your way to your  _A-Wing_. Rey remained stubbornly quiet. “I’m just saying that it’s not all ‘ _big, grand gestures_ ’ that mean someone loves you.” He mused with a shrug. Rey’s blush was all the confirmation he needed.

The real shock came, however, when BB-8 confronted the Jedi-In-Training, doing the best impression of a frown that Rey had ever seen on a droid, whistling about how they heard Poe and Finn talking, and if Rey didn’t say something to you soon, the boys planned to do something both dramatic and probably embarrassing. Half of Rey wanted them to just get it over with, it was getting harder every day to meditate these feelings away to serenity, and to have them out in the open would probably help. The other half, however, knew that you would hate something so public like the boys would probably have planned, and as much as she didn’t want to admit it, she loved you, and did want to keep you in her life, rather than chase you off with some big, public display.

“But what if she doesn’t like me like that?” Rey finds herself confiding in the droid, who, for the first time she’s known them, takes the time to be reassuring and compassionate, relaying all the instances of mutual heart-eyes they’d seen between the two of you, and the way you would gush about the young Jedi to Poe whenever the topic came up. The way Rey’s cheeks heated up at the simple story seemed to satisfy the astromech, who rolled away, announcing that they were going to fetch you before Rey had time to change her mind.

She tried to come up with a plan in the short time she was given, sorting through her feelings and thoughts for something, anything to say. That wasn’t the whole truth, she knew what she wanted to say, but she didn’t know how to get the words out. They were heavy on her tongue, dripping through her mind like syrup, too sweet and cloying to be real. Rey didn’t like being unfocused or unprepared, her heart was hammering in her chest. You smiled expectantly at her when you arrived. BB-8 whistled.

“Are you alright?” The way you smiled at her, so sincere and open and genuinely caring, all of Master Luke’s mindfulness training left her mind, and she’s left looking foolish. Feelings were  _so_  inconsiderate sometimes.

“Yes.” It sounds more like a question than anything else, which only proved to make you more confused, raising an eyebrow, resting a gentle hand on her elbow.

“BeeBee said you wanted to see me.” You told her, voice calm and level. She hates this, hates that she can barely function around you, around the uncompromising sincerity you project, the overwhelming desire to be kind and helpful you somehow carry.

“Yes, I do.” It was said with a far more confident air than the previous statement, and already you looked placated, expression shifting from one of faint apprehension to affection and the barest trace of amusement. “I love you.” Finally she got the words out. It seemed like every little thing you did had her singing those words in her head, and finally she got to speak them, her expression calm and confident.

“I love you too.” There was nothing but fondness and affection written all over your face, but there was something about your tone that set her on edge, something familial, or possibly even a tinge of resignation.

“ _Romantically_.” She clarified, and there was a moment where she watched the way your eyes glazed over, smile freezing before it cracked into something more excited and genuine as you squeezed her shoulder.

“Oh, thank goodness.” You breathed, and the relief and happiness in your voice had her laughing out of shock. “I love you too,” you repeated, eyes sparkling, “ _romantically_.” The way she kissed you was neither serene, nor was it appropriate conduct for a Jedi in public, but Rey was sure Master Luke would make an exception for young love.


	7. Out There {Poe Dameron}

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anon asked: Can you please make me more Poe x reader? :) Your imagines are so awesome!!
> 
> Anon asked: Imagine Poe Dameron falling in love with you
> 
> Anon asked: Imagine Poe Dameron teaching you how to fly an X-Wing

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tumblr: thelastimagine
> 
> A/N: fluff is chicken soup for feelings. this fic is like chicken soup but with a few chilli flakes, because I don’t really know how to write fluff competently, I’m not sure what I’m doing, but it’ll still hopefully be good. unedited and a lil bit messy.

There was a loud whine, indicative of an engine failure, that overwhelmed you. The surface of the planet you had been flying around was rapidly approaching, and there wasn’t anything you could do to slow your descent.

“Poe! What do I do?! What do I do?!” You yelped, pressing any button you could, heart racing as you were about to crash. You could see the tops of the trees ahead and knew that you were done for, you moved your hands to clutch at your chest, waiting for the inevitable. Right as the ship made contact with the ground, the screen snapped to black and your stats from the simulation came up. The door of the cockpit opened with a hiss, and the first thing you could hear was Poe’s laughter.

“Shut up, it’s not funny.” You snapped, climbing out, your heart racing. The simulation had done at least one thing right, you actually felt as if you were going to die. 

“Well,” Poe was trying and failing to school his expression into a suitable, not-laughing one, “you did better than last time.” He offered, not that there was much to celebrate, “At least this time you didn’t crash into Endor, you crashed into…” he trailed off and you dropped your head into your hands.

“The Forest Moon of Endor.” You groaned, overly dramatic, “I’ve done it! I’ve destroyed a Rebel Monument and countless Ewok villages!” You threw your hands in the air. “I’ll never be a pilot, Poe,  _never_.” There was a serious edge to your joking tone, and you weren’t sure whether you had intended it or not, either way, Poe was looking at you with something akin to determination. “Don’t.” You simply said, and he frowned.

“Don’t what?” He asked, vaguely bewildered.

“Don’t do that thing where you tell me everything’s going to be all right, that I’m not as terrible as I think.” You ran your hands through your hair.

“Well, now that you mention it-” He began, but you held up a single finger. He pressed his lips together and shrugged helplessly. “Fine. I won’t say anything.” He agreed. 

It goes on like this, weeks upon weeks, you slowly get better, but you don’t seem to grow any more optimistic. Each session ends in disaster and despite your obvious progress, you won’t listen to Poe’s praise. The problem is that BB-8 is a dead giveaway, the droid refuses to lie, and holds all Resistance pilots’ to Poe’s impossibly high standard. Even relative newcomers such as yourself were cut little slack by the fiercely loyal droid. 

It takes  _months_  until the little astromech began to begrudgingly respect your developing skills. That first positive whistle from them had your mood soaring, and you struggled to keep your face from showing the relief your heart felt. It mustn’t have worked, however, as Poe’s beaming at you, wrapping his arms around you in triumph.

“BeeBee’s a harsh critic, ‘feels good getting praise, doesn’t it?” He asked, and when he pulled back, there was a flush to both of your cheeks that neither of you comment upon, however BB-8 rolls back and forth, whistling with something akin to suspicion. Poe looks as though he’s about to say something, a new and unfamiliar look in his eyes, but the look leaves as soon as it arrives and he closes his mouth, shaking his head with a huff of laughter. “We’ll get you in the air yet.” He murmurs, clapping you on the shoulder as he walks off.

It takes  _months_ to finally get you flying an  _actual_ X-Wing, and not one day goes past that you don’t think of that face Poe had made, like he was on the verge of realising or admitting something important. Somewhere along the line you realising yourself that you had feelings for Poe that you couldn’t put into words. You were reminded of this fact every time he looks at you after a simulation, with glowing praise and a starry-eyed expression. Even BB-8 seemed to be warming up to you, beeping fondly whenever he rolled past in the halls.

The day Poe presented you with an Honest-To-Maker flight suit, BB-8 was right by his side, looking up at you with what you optimistically interpreted as pride. It came as a shock when Poe, chest puffed out with pride of his own, announced that the little astromech volunteered to be your copilot for your first  _real_ flight.

“There’s no-one I’d rather have with me.” You find yourself saying before you can even register the words, but then BB-8 flicks out their lighter in what Poe assured you was the equivalent of a thumbs up, a gesture which you mirrored. In no time, you were beginning pre-flight checks in an  _actual X-Wing._ The X-Wing itself wasn’t in top shape, but it’s all the Resistance could spare, and you were thankful either way.

Handing you a helmet, Poe leaned against the side of the cockpit as you strapped yourself in.

“I’ll be with you the entire time.” He assured, tapping knowingly on metal arm extending from the helmet that attached it to the comlink. In a rush of gratitude and excitement, you pressed a kiss to his cheek.

“You better be.” You said, though the nervousness you were feeling bled into your words, and Poe’s blush faded as he looked more concerned than flustered, and he assured you, with an expression full of affection, that you’d do great.

“You know how I idolised Leia growing up?” That was not what you expected to come over the comlink after both a successful takeoff and a full half an hour of circling D’Qar, giving a running commentary on your status as Poe listened patiently to give advice. The flight was going well, BB-8 had chirped along quite happily when you asked how you had been doing, so all seemed to be going well.

“Yes, I am aware of your embarrassing crush on the General.” You told him, you could almost hear the way his head dropped whenever you mentioned it, his face turning an entertaining shade of pink.

“Not the point.” He muttered, but you laughed anyway. You began to descend through the atmosphere, looking for a place to land safely. There was a field up ahead, beside a lake, it looked good enough.

“I’m coming in for landing.” You announced, momentarily distracting him. 

“OK, good, how’s she looking, BeeBee?” He asked, and the droid must have sent something positive back because he’s laughing, and you can feel, despite the panic of descent, something ease in your chest at the sound. “BeeBee tells me you’re looking good.”

“Thanks,” you breathed, trying to focus on the task at hand while Poe got back to his topic.

“The General, she taught me that anything can happen, and if you have a chance, you have to take it.” It sounded like he was trying to work up to something, but you felt your attention being pulled further and further away as the ship began to beep and the ground was getting closer.

“Is this really the time?” You asked, and Poe choked out a startled laugh at the irony. “Are you telling me this because I’m about to die?” You asked, voice rising with distress.

“No, I’m just- I’m just saying, I think I’ve got a chance and I don’t want to just throw that all away.” He said. You realised that you had overshot the field and were about to plummet straight into the lake. BB-8 was beeping furiously at you and you tried to split your focus before you cried out, throwing your hands up to cover your face.

You lurched forward in your seat, snapping back. The lake was less of a lake than you had previously thought. It seemed to ony be about waist high with a soft, muddy bedding. The engines didn’t seem waterlogged, and apart from the mud on your window from where the nose had grazed the surface of the lake, there didn’t seem to be a lot of damage.

“[Y/N]!” Poe called your name, terror in his voice. Your head still spinning, you groped at the side of your helmet to bring the comlink closer to your face where it had been pushed up to face the roof of the cockpit. You tried to talk, but you instead made a bleary groan, BB-8 chirping woozily behind you. “Are you all right? What happened?” Poe asked, and you groaned, rolling your neck.

“Lake…” You managed, before wiggling your jaw to free it from shock, “I crashed into the lake.” There’s a pause, before a sigh of exasperation from the other end of the line.

“Of course you did.” 

It’s about half an hour before you were picked up, Poe flying a restored  _LAAT_ that did a pretty spectacular job of lifting your waterlogged ship into the air like it weighed nothing. All that time, your thoughts were consumed by Poe’s words, the nerves in his voice that you had heard only once, in the memory of a successful simulation, his hesitation that lead to him diverting the conversation. He’d tried this confession before, you realised, but he didn’t even know how to describe what he had been feeling, so he kept himself quiet. 

You had both been quiet about the same thing, you realised, for a  _very long time_. 

“I love you.” It’s the first words out of your mouth when you climb in the  _LAAT’_ s copilot seat as it sits waiting for you in the field you had just missed. You’re met with Poe’s worried gaze and a question about your safety that died on his tongue. 

“What?” He managed after a moment, and there was a sudden sinking sensation in your chest that you had misread the situation, until, from the quiet carcass of your crashed X-Wing, came an angry beeping from BB-8. “I mean-” Poe’s thoughts stammered into action at the droid’s insistence, and seeing the nervousness suddenly on your face, his expression softened, and he chuckled softly. “Beat me to it.” He mused, and despite your relief and excitement, another set of angry beeps came from the cabin of the craft. 

“Yeah, I’m getting to it!” Poe calls out with mock annoyance, and then he turns back with a grin. “I love you too.” He paused. “Have for a while now.” You had tried to restrain yourself, but it’s like a dam had burst inside of you, pent up love and affection spilling out all at once, and it’s all you can do to kiss him, leaning over the space between your seats. There’s a beep from behind you both that sounds equal parts content and exasperated, and the way Poe grins and stifles his laughter against your lips can mean the droid said the one thing you were all thinking.

< _Finally!_ >


	8. Delicate {Kylo Ren} (Platonic)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> imagineherbrightskies asked: Imagine kylo walking along the street with some storm troopers and group of homeless kids run through them giving them flowers and the reader being the eldest out of them and giving flowers to kylo and yeah being all awesome

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tumblr: thelastimagine
> 
> A/N: This is cute and spoiler free, also unedited as heck. It’s a year old. Geeze, I’m really sorry!! BTW the real reason Rigo wanted to hide flowers on the Stormtroopers was for the ~aesthetic~ but he couldn’t just say that. Set 5-10 years pre-TFA.

You were shaking, or, maybe you weren’t, it felt like you should be shaking. You had been living on the streets of Theed on Naboo for the past few years, and in that time you had managed to surround yourself with an adventurous pack of kids in the same situation as you. Naboo was fairly nice, the shop owners had seen your group grow up, doting upon you and giving you any food they could spare, and the generally summery climate meant that nights never got too cold.

On this particular day, you and your friends had decided to amuse yourselves with a game of truth or dare - “ _Nobody pick truth, truth is for wimps!” -_ and it had turned into a series of escalating challenges. It was your turn, and you were rather terrified as your best friend, a gungan boy named Rigo Baurs pondered his options.

“You’ve seen those Stormtropers, right?” There was a terrifying glint of mischief in his eyes. You nodded, nervous. The whole marketplace bad been buzzing with the news that a squad of Stormtroopers, as well as an honest-to-maker Knight of Ren, were visiting. No-one really knew why they were here, but apparently the Knight was connected to the Queen, but no-one knew how or why. “Well, I have a challenge for you; you pick flowers from the Amidala Memorial Garden, and then you have to hide as many as you can on the Stormtroopers.” He said.

“What? No!” You cried, “That’s so strange, why?” You spluttered. Rigo shrugged.

“I guess being the oldest means being the most boring.” He sneered, and the other kids jeered you on, “It’s not even that hard.” He said, airily.

“Fine, if it’s not so hard, you have to do it too.” You told him, poking him in the chest. He huffed.

“Easy.” He grinned, but his expression turned soft as one of the youngest, a little girl named Ji-Ryu, who was about five, tugged on his shirt.

“Can we help give the Stormies flowers?” She asked, and a few kids who were also very small nodded vigorously. Rigo paused, torn between looking amused and endeared.

“That’s not what we’re-”

“Please, Rigo , we’ll be nice and we won’t pick the bad flowers.” The girl interrupted, her eyes going wide as she quivered her bottom lip; the kids in your group could do the best puppy-dog eyes, which was great when asking for food, less good when it interrupted a heated match of  ~~truth~~   _dare_ or dare. Rigo looked at you, helplessly and you knelt down beside Ji-Ryu.

“Can you help us on a secret mission?” You asked, and her eyes lit up. “When we ask, you have to run in and give the Stormies flowers, be as cute as you can, that goes for all of you-” you pointed at the little kids behind her, “while Rigo and me give them  _secret_ flowers, OK?” The little kids began cheering, running off to gather flowers.

“Good call.” Rigo mused, and you smirked.

“Thanks.” You paused, “What if we’re caught? Stormtroopers aren’t exactly known for their leniency.” Rigo snorted.

“They’re also not known for their great aim, so I think if you run in a zig-zag you’ll be fine.” He said, smiling as one of the kids brought you both a bouquet of flowers. Rigo looked from the flowers to you. “First to five?”

“You’re on.” 

You and Rigo spent the rest of the day directing and coordinating your squads of children, intercepting the Stormtroopers while the two of yhou swooped in to place your flowers. The rules were simple; the flower had to stay in contact with the Stormtrooper for a full minute, if it falls off, you don’t get the point. You can sabotage one another, but not violently, and when one person gets to five points, the other person only gets one turn to match them, and the game continues until someone fails.

It was close to the end of the day and you were pretty disappointed, waiting with Rigo to watch the Stormtrooper for the minute where he was securely lodged in between two plates of armour. He had called out to the Stormtrooper during your last go, making the trooper turn and spot you behind him, where you were trying to wedge a flower into the gap between his helmet and bodysuit. You scarpered, running out of them and dropping the flower, terrified, while Rigo simply laughed.

“I said I’m sorry!” He argued after the minute was up. He had officially gained five points and you were stuck on three, with seemingly no hope of return. “Look, I’ve got a final challenge. If you complete it, we call it even and I drop the dare.” He said, ad you narrowed your eyes suspiciously. “The Knight of Ren.” He said and your eyes flew open.

“No. No way. Too far, too far even for you.” You snapped, taking a step back.

“All right, I’m suggesting this because I’m your friend and it’s hilarious; what if we went in all the kids at once, so you’re not going in alone.”

“I’m not going in at all; he’ll literally kill me, Ri.”

“Fine!” He threw his hands in the air, “You flank them and chuck a flower in his hood, like a stealth grenade.”

“Why are you so interested in this?” You asked.

“Mostly boredom,” he admitted, “but also, we’ll never have this opportunity again, don’t throw it away.” You took a deep breath.

“Make sure all the kids get out before I do.” Your voice was even but you were a mess of sudden nerves inside.

“You talk like you’re about to die-” Rigo chuckled.

“ _Promise me_.” You said, jabbing him until he promised. “Give me a flower.” You grumbled, and he did. You waited for him to orginise the children, before he turned to you.

“Alright, they’re going to run in from the front, yelling and throwing flower petals, you’re going to come through the back, going straight through the middle. Toss the flower into the guy’s hood and keep running, OK?” He clapped his hand on your shoulder and you nodded, despite your uncertainty. You slipped through the backk alleies until you were able to see Rigo waiting for your signal. You gave him the thumbs up and the children began to run out through the street, laughing and shouting and distracting the Stormtroopers as you raced through. Your heart was in your throat as the flower in your hand was all but crushed in your grip, but you could see the Knight of Ren in the middle coming up fast and you shoved all thoughts from your mind, throwing the flower at him and continuing on.

You heard Rigo call out for the kids to move out, but a hand grabbed the back of your shirt, and you were yanked backwards. You let out a yelp as you were dragged back by the cold hand of a Stormtrooper, and suddenly you found yourself staring up at The Knight of Ren, a wilted, crushed flower sitting atop his head. It would be funny if it wasn’t terrifying.

“What is your name?” His voice was deep and cold, making you flinch. You were silent. “ _What is your name_?” he repeated.

“[Y/N].” You whispered. He thought for a long moment.

“And what-” he picked the flower off his head with a delicate hand, “is this?”

“A flower.” You whimpered.

“What?” He asked, voice loud.

“A flower, Sir, from the Amidala Memorial Garden.” You yelped, shying away as best you could in the Stormtrooper’s iron grip. “Please, don’t hurt me! It was just a game! I’m sorry! I’m sorry!” You pleaded, bracing yourself for anything. There was a long moment of silence and curious, you opened your eyes just a fraction. The Knight of Ren’s mask was terrifying up close; he was squatting down to be at eye level with you, and in one movement, he removed the helmet. 

You were expecting some horrible creature, a monster that would haunt your dreams, instead, there was just a man. He looked older than you, but not by more than ten years.

“I’m not a monster,” he assured you,, before looking at the flower in his hand, “Who is the memorial for?”

“I don’t know- some Queen who died a long time ago.” You mumbled, “There’s a sign there, I think.” You told him. He looked to the Stormtrooper holding you, before waving him away.

“Can you show me the way?” He voice was surprisingly soft, and you nodded, shakily, squirming nervously. He straightened up, gesturing in front of himself for you to lead the way. You didn’t look behind yourself, simply weaving through the well known streets, trusting that the Stormtroopers would keep up. 

The park was beautiful, with a bronze statue of a beautiful woman surrounded by flowers. You turned to see the Knight of Ren gazing up at the statue with awe in his gaze.

“Did you know her?” You asked, it was a stupid question, he was fairly young, but there was an knowing glint in his eye. There was regret in his voice when he answered.

“No.”


	9. No Matter What {Poe Dameron}

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> shupokawaii asked:I would like to request a Poe Dameron imagine because I am such Poe trash. It could be anything, honestly, but could he be involved with some female (that preferably isn’t Rey?) He could also be paired with Finn, I’m also stormpilot trash. Thanks!
> 
> Anon asked: Can I ask for a Poe Dameron imagine? Leia and Hans daughter( Kylo-Ren twin sister) is fighting longside her mother ,she’s very stern and closed off, but Poe is willing to sacrifice anything for her
> 
> Anon asked: Can I ask for a Poe Dameron imagine? YN is the best engineer f the resistence (she’s the one who made BB-8) and he’s in love with her. He only admits after coming back

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tumblr: thelastimagine
> 
> A/N: cha chas real smooth back to this blog three months late with a fic over 4.5k long

“Dameron! Are you in flying condition?” Barging into the medical bay, your voice was more of a bark as you sought out Poe. The man in question looked expectantly towards you from where he propped himself up on his elbows, lying across an examination table.  

“For you? Always.” His response was smooth and effortless, lazy grin on his face eliciting a groan of frustration from you. The droid stationed to watch over him all but quivered beneath your hard gaze.

“How long until whatever… this is,” you waved your hand in Poe’s general direction, “wears off.” Droids weren’t known for their hesitation, however there was something about you that consistently unnerved the Resistance’s medical droids, and this one in particular whirred uncertainly before emitting a series of beeps that roughly translated to ‘that’s just how he is’. You cleared your throat, whistling sharply in a passable, if basic, version of droidspeak that the droid in question nodded at, scuttling away and leaving you and Poe in peace.

“What did you tell him?” His fingers curled at your hip as he pulled you close, fingers drawing small circles against the small of your back. He knew full well what you had said to the droid, but the way he smile and the warmth of his touch eased something in your chest.

“I can take care of you myself.” Voice a quiet murmur, your fingertips ghost across his face and through his hair, eyes zeroing in on the careful stitching and sticky residue of the bacta patches.

“You always do.” His voice is equally soft and you lean into his touch, finger absentmindedly carding through his hair. Stay like that for barely a moment, you allow yourself time to breathe, the two of you taking comfort in each other’s company before the horror of reality crept in once more. “So what do you need me to do, Admiral?” Poe’s voice was sharp, cutting through the silence as you retracted your hand, schooling your face into it’s usual, stony expression.

“GA-97 has radioed in; BeeBee is on Takodana.” The way his face lit up at those simple words made you suppress a grin of your own. His joy was infectious. “Your X-Wing is being refueled and I’ve assigned BB-2 to be your copilot.” Poe’s lack of emotional filter was a source of great joy to you, his face scrunching up in distaste. “They’re an older model,” you conceded, “but no less reliable, you’ll be back with BeeBee soon enough.” There was a hint of annoyance in your voice, everyone and their droid knew that BB-8 was Poe’s favourite -  _BB-8 was everyone’s favourite_  - but you had single-handedly built most of the BB Units from scratch and felt guilty playing favourites.

“I’m guessing it’s not all good news.” Poe knew how you felt about your droids, trying -  _and failing_  - to look apologetic. You couldn’t begrudge him for his love of BB-8, just knowing the droid was in safe hands meant you slept well at night, and  _that_  was the priority now - the droid, not your sleep schedule.

“Leia and I will be picking up BeeBee,” tone grave, you avoided looking directly at him, worried that keeping him from BB-8 would only serve to disappoint him, “you won’t be able to see them until we get back to base.” Voice low and quiet, you were startled when a hand reached up to pat at your cheek fondly.

“At least they’re in good hands.” There was no disappointment, nor a shred of negativity in the pilot’s gaze as he regarded you with an expression almost akin to amusement. With a goodnatured sigh, you pulled Poe to his feet.

“Your squad is waiting.” You informed him, shooting for somewhat commanding, or even just neutral. Poe nodded sincerely, and the two of you chattered away about potential upgrades for your little droid until you arrived at the hangar. Leia was already beckoning you to the transport freighter when you arrived, Poe gave her a salute before leaving to change into his flight suit.

“Take care of the General!” With his voice close enough to a sing-song that you knew he was joking, he couldn’t help but flashing his winning grin at the General herself. She humoured him with an eyeroll, but didn’t miss your sour expression as you boarded the ship beside her.

“I should be going with them.” Voice an angry hiss, you gestured flippantly to where the X-Wings were preparing for takeoff. Leia sighed deeply before rounding on you.

“I’ve received word that the First Order is already there.” She held up a hand, silencing your protests before you even had time to voice them. “And so is Han.” Stunned into silence, it took a moment for you to respond.

“Dad?” Little more than a dull murmur of the word had Leia nodding, murmuring something about how he missed you as she lay a supportive hand on your arm. Jerking out of her grip, you couldn’t deny the pang of longing that settled deep in your chest, even as your face morphed into a mask of discontent.

To you, Leia had always just been ‘ _Leia_ ’ or, in more formal situations, ‘ _The General_ ’, never ‘ _mom_ ’, and while you could admit that your life was littered with emotional hangups due to a childhood that was equally distant and intense, even life-threatening at times, Han had always been ‘ _dad_ ’, even when he left, even as your sense of abandonment crystallized into resentment.

“That doesn’t mean I’ve forgiven him.” You told her, avoiding her gaze, watching her nod with her small smile of understanding. The flight to Takodana was eerily quiet, but mercifully short, and it was only as you were landing that you finally chanced a look out the window. Castle little more than a pile of rubble, the corpses of Stormtroopers littered around, it made a devastating sight to behold. Heart in your throat, you were suddenly flooded with memories of Han sneaking you into the Cantina, helping Maz serve drinks when the Resistance was in danger and you had to be hidden away, a life you dreamed of having where the worst thing to happen was a bar fight where someone loses an arm. If your eyes are damp, Leia has the grace to ignore it.

It’s with a hiss that the doors of the shuttle open, Leia shooting a thankful glance as you stood by her side, and the two of you are bathed in the warm glow of Takodana’s afternoon sun. The recovery team springs into action, the first out of the doors they begin clearing away debris, however it’s the sight of the three people waiting quietly in the sunlight that makes your chest feel tight. Leia takes the first step towards them, with eyes only for Han, but you follow without hesitation and there’s pride in his gaze when he catches sight of you. Even so, it’s clear that he and your mother are having a ‘moment’ so you move to embrace Chewbacca. There’s something so familiar about the way he roars in your ear, so affectionate and welcoming, it feels like coming home.

From down by your ankles comes an insistent, excited whistling, and you can feel your heart lift. You can hear C3P0’s babbling, tactless greeting to your father, but your droid is recounting it’s own daring, galaxy crossing journey and you can’t help but listen and beam like the adoring parent you not so secretly are.

“You’ve grown.” With a familiar voice to your right, BB-8’s chirping quiets. They roll hesitantly back and forth as you stand from your crouch to turn and face the man who belongs to the voice.

“Han.” Voice carefully neutral, you hope your expression reads as something similar. Evidently it does as his own face falls.

“I understand how it is.” He dips his head into a dejected nod and you sigh, breaking the cool distance between you with a step forward, face softening.

“ _Dad_.” You conceded, and Han’s smile, while not blinding, did make your heart lift in spite of yourself. He wrapped you in a tight hug, pressing a kiss to your forehead.

“I’ve missed you, peanut.” He murmured, and though he sounded truly sincere, there was obviously something else on his mind. He avoided your curious gaze, knowing you could sense it. Looking instead to your mother, she simply shook her head sadly.

“Who are you?” As you stepped out from your father’s embrace, you rounded on the man somewhat hidden behind your father, your tone clipped.

“Finn.” His name came out a stammer, clearly taken aback by your abruptness. It was followed by tense silence as your eyes scanned him over, zeroing in on the jacket he wore.  _Poe’s jacket_. Your gaze snapped to the droid by your feet.

“You trust him?” You raised an eyebrow at BB-8, ignoring Han’s indignant scoff that you hadn’t asked his opinion, listening instead to the droid’s begrudging confirmation of Finn’s trustworthiness. “Welcome, Finn, I’m [Y/N].” Holding out your hand, you waited for Finn to shake it nervously.

 _“This_  is what a  _big deal_  looks like.” Han smirked at Finn from behind him, words laced with some hidden meaning that evaded you. Finn, however, ducked his head out of embarrassment, making his way aboard the transport freighter at Leia’s insistence. Han and Chewbacca made a beeline for the Falcon, but not before your father turned to you, face conflicted as he rests an uncertain hand upon your shoulder. “I saw Ben.” He murmured, and your blood runs cold.

“No, you didn’t.” You snap in a knee-jerk reaction. “My brother’s not a murderer; my brother’s  _dead_.”  And though your reply was cold, you couldn’t bare to look your father in the eyes as you headed quickly back to the transport freighter waiting close by.

“You could have been kinder to him.” Leia’s quiet words fill you with guilt, though your gaze was as cold as ice when you turn back to her, determined.

 _He_  was the one who left. Not me, not you, it was  _Ben_  and it was  _Han_.“ Scowling, you notice her expression mirrors your own, but her voice comes out a harsh snarl at your allegations.

“Do not blame your father for Snoke’s deception.” She reprimanded, and on cue, a shudder of horror passed through your body at his very mention. Filled with shame, you allow her to continue, your head bowed as the ship doors close and people ready for takeoff. “We had to make difficult choices; I blame myself for your brother’s betrayal,  _I_  was the one who insisted he trained with Luke, and I regret it every day.” There was a moment of stillness as she closed her eyes and took a deep, calming breath. “I will never regret keeping you by my side; we’ve always been there for each other, [Y/N].”

“I was a  _child_  and you commanded an  _army_.” You snapped, leaving her in the common area, heading, with a huff, for your workshop upon the freighter that had been cobbled together for last-minute droid repairs. BB-8 was waiting patiently for you, babbling to themself, but greeting you with an enthusiastic call of ‘ _Mumma!_ ’, as they often did, or as close as they could get in binary. With an indulgently warm smile you asked to hear about their daring escape, prompting them to treat you to a lively recount of all the events since the raid of the village on Jakku and Poe’s capture. Something in your brain stalled at the mention of Ben, and the little droid gave you a moment to collect yourself.

Upon landing on D’Qar, yourself and BB-8 were whisked away to an important meeting where the little droid handed over an ancient looking data storage unit, the reason that this had all began, back on Jakku. They rolled nervously back and forth by your side as the information on the device -  _the map to Luke Skywalker_  - was projected for the whole room to see. It surely looked impressive at first glance, but with each passing moment, more flaws arose, and there was a nervous feeling beginning to curl in the pit of your stomach. The map was small, barely a segment, littered with planets that were frankly unheard of. Part of you was interested, you couldn’t not be; he was family, after all, however most of you, was livid at the realisation that Poe had been  _tortured_ , had almost  _died_  for something so useless.

Leia had begun planning an attack on Starkiller Base at the realisation that the First Order could very well have both this segment and the rest, therefore rendering it useful, so you divided your time between planning the attack from your mother’s side, and checking BB-8 for any major damage.

The meeting adjourned with the attack outline firmly in place, and you had determined that BB-8 was mostly sand-free, but needed a few wires replaced, and agreed to come to your workshop. After your mother’s dismissal, the two of you made your way across base, route leading you conveniently through the X-Wing hangar. BB-8 drooped at little, but assured you they were fine, however at the sight of Black One landing, the little droid trilled as loudly and excitedly as their little speakers could manage, rolling at a truly impressive rate to bowl Finn out of the way to greet Poe as he exited the ship.

Finn froze at the sight of Poe, and the way Poe bounds to hug him would lead people to believe that they had been parted for decades rather than mere days, or as though they had known each other for a lifetime. You were well aware that the jealousy you felt was unreasonable, Poe was friends with  _everyone_ , your friendship was nothing special. Even so, your heart flipped as Poe shot you a sunny grin. You returned the grin weakly, calling to the little astromech at his feet. BB-8 agreed to follow you to your workshop, but only after extracting another hug from their pilot.

The droid burbled to themselves excitedly, their chips translating into a repetitive string of excited phrases along the lines of ‘ _Dad’s alive! He’s safe! He’s happy! Dad’s alive!_ ’ and you suddenly found yourself overwhelmed at the notion that the little BB-Unit by your side had spent the last two days believing that Poe had died in the TIE fighter crash. Overcome with the desire to hold the BB unit close, they trilled happily in your embrace.

“I’m glad he’s safe too,” you find yourself admitting, “and I shouldn’t be jealous of Finn.” BB-8 tipped their head to the side, confused. “Finn and Poe,” you clarified, flushing despite yourself, “but I should tell Poe how I feel.” At BB-8’s questing beeps, you relented, “I do enjoy his company, BeeBee, I just… I don’t know how to say that.” The droid whirs knowingly, but you don’t feel any better for talking it through.

The workshop had always felt more like your home than the barracks ever could, you had even dragged in a cot and cooling unit to make it more homely, and you were consistently thankful for it’s adjoining bathroom, even though it was little more than a shower and toilet. The workbench itself had been furnished with an impressive array of tools, including a terminal that you quickly hooked BB-8 to for a full systems analysis.

“I can always count on you to steal my droid.” At the sound of someone at your door, you looked up from where you were halfway through replacing the flint in BB-8’s welding torch. Realising that it was simply Poe, you rolled your eyes and went on with your job. His tone was affectionate, as was the smile he’s giving you, leaning casually in your doorframe, gaze ghosting from you to the droid and back again.

“ _My_ droid.” You corrected, but their was no sting, and though you found yourself drawn into the process of repairing the BB-unit, you couldn’t help the smile on your face. The droid looked from you to Poe expectantly, but you did little more than nudge them over to get at the panel hiding their frayed wires.

“I’ve always loved how focused you get with BeeBee; there’s something mesmerising about it.” His voice is warm and kind, he speaks like that around you a lot and you try not to think too hard about how happy his voice makes you.

“Is there something you needed, Dameron?” You settle on, tone impatient but not unkind, blushing deeply and hoping he can’t see it. There’s a pause and you turn to see him watching you through narrowed eyes.

“You know you can call me Poe, even the droids do.” He insisted, amused. It was clear that you hadn’t been expecting this, and he smirked at your surprise.

“I- I’m not a droid now, am I,  _Dameron_?” Though your voice was sharp as you tried to cover your initial surprise, you couldn’t help your slight stammer, nor the heat creeping up your neck once more. Poe was right,  _everyone_  called him Dameron, this… well it made you feel special. Poe shook his head, sighing exasperatedly.

“The General’s finished planning the assault on Starkiller Base; will you be flying with me?” His cheeks turned an entertaining shade of red and added, “with Red Squadron, I mean?” Suddenly it was your turn to be surprised, shocked at his forwardness, before nodding.

“There’s no-one I’d rather follow into battle.” You replied, dryly, though your smile was genuine. Poe’s eyes were sparkling with amusement.

“Your rank doesn’t change in an X-Wing.” He assured you with a chuckle, but you looked away turning your attention back to BB-8’s exposed wiring.

“And you’re still the best pilot in the Resistance.” You told him, seriously. “Rank does not equal skill.” But he could see the fond smile you wore, and kept his own tone playful.

“That’s the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me.” He clapped his hand over his heart in mock adoration. You clenched your jaw as a pang of guilt shot through you. Though it sounded like he was joking, you quietly worried if he was telling the truth and you were left with the distinct impression that you were ungrateful.

“Don’t let it go to your head.” You fired off a gut response, leaving your brain to silently work through your feelings. Poe didn’t seem too hurt by it, and he snorted, shaking his head. With a snap, you closed the panel on the repaired BB unit, and screwed it closed. Now fully alert, BB-8 looked from yourself to Poe, before nudging your leg softly. Mouth suddenly feeling very dry, you nodded to the little droid before turning to Poe. “I’m sorry about what Ben did to you.” Are not the words you thought would come out of your mouth, but Poe’s expression softens and you don’t regret your words.

BB-8, seemingly thrilled that their plan was working, chirped excitedly before bumping into Poe’s leg insistently and then rolling away, as subtle as a blimp.

“It’s not your fault, [Y/N].” Poe assured you. Even though it had been orchestrated by the droid that you had built, it felt real and it felt right as he wrapped his arms around you, pulling you into a hug.

“I know…” You mused against his shoulder, “but if he’s not going to apologise then someone should.” There’s something safe, comforting about the way you could wrap your arms around him with your chin tucked on his shoulder. His heartbeat was steady, if not quick against your chest. “I’m so glad you’re alive.” Voice a whisper, it was painful to think about what would have happened if Finn hadn’t saved him… you owned that man a lot. As you pull away from one another, Poe looks as though he’s on the verge of saying something more, but Snap chose that time to poke his head around the door, smiling knowingly and calling for the two of you to come to the debriefing.

“We should go before the Leia gets antsy.” You told him quickly, and he agreed with the same sentiment, cheeks pink. The way he had looked at you, with such trust, such love, it filled you with a warmth that stayed with you even as you listened to your mother explain the finer details of the destroying the base. During the meeting, your gaze is drawn towards Finn as he watches Poe intently, expression serious, focused. The team received their orders, but as the General dismisses her troops, you find yourself calling to the ex-Stormtrooper.

“Finn, may I have a word?” Voice was quiet as the meeting broke up, he frowned at you curious, as was Poe, though you waved the latter off. “You saved him. You saved Poe.” Never one to mince words, Finn appreciated your ability to be direct, and dipped his head in recognition, even as he was still confused. “For that, you have earned my respect, as well as a place within the Resistance.”

“You- you can do that?” He asked, suddenly doubtful. Your mind flashed to your earlier encounter, and a pained look crossed your face. You were so used to downplaying your involvement in the Resistance, because of your attachment to your parents’ legacy and to Ben’s actions, but you felt no need to lie.

“I’m an admiral, and General Organa’s… successor.” Which was true, even if it wasn’t the whole truth, and there was something reverent in the way Finn now regarded you. Of course he knew about General Organa, everyone did, but despite this, you had been determined to make your way through the chain of command on your own merits, despite the vicious lies some circles of the Resistance were prone to spreading. You hesitated for a beat before hugging Finn tightly. “Thank you for saving him.” Murmuring quietly, you hoped Finn could tell how much Poe’s safety and happiness meant to you. It seemed he could as Finn gingerly hugged you back, tight enough that it felt reassuring, and the two of you parted ways.

The astromech assigned to your X-Wing was one that you had rebuilt yourself, designated as R2-I8, though they were far more introverted than BB-8, most everyone found them to be an incredibly competent copilot, and you were no different. The droid greeted you as warmly as it could, closely supervising as one of the crew finished refueling your ship as others raced about, completing final checks and preparing for takeoff.

“Peanut!” It was your father’s voice behind you, pride written all over his face as he took in the sight of his daughter wearing a flightsuit. You reminded him so much of Luke it was almost painful, though he kept that thought to himself. The breath that you managed was shaky, and you kept your expression blank. “You look so grown up.”

“A lot’s happened since you left.” You murmured. He smiled sadly in the silence, clapping his hand on your shoulders before he pulled you in for a hug, patting your back comfortingly.

“I know.” He assured quietly as he held you tightly. He had never been much of a father to you, always on some adventure or another, but he had always cared, and he had always loved you. “Take care of yourself.” He murmured, and he pretend not to notice the tears glimmering in your eyes.

“Don’t… don’t do anything stup-” you tried to form a sentence, but were unable to get the words from your mouth. Shaking your head with a sigh, you wiped away the tears that threatened to roll down your cheeks. “You too, dad.” Voice a mumble, your father nodded resolutely, clapping you on your shoulder. He watched with pride as you climb into the cockpit of your X-Wing, giving you a salute before heading to the Millennium Falcon. There’s something so familiar about watching him leave that it makes your chest hurt, but you don’t think about it.

Once in the air, the comlink crackled to life, and Poe’s voice was in your ear, “All ‘Wings report in.” Poe’s familiar commands filled you with a sense of familiarity as the red and blue squadrons began answering on cue.

“Red Leader, standing by.” You reported. Anxiety crept in as you were met with a moment of silence over the comlinks, , and there was a moment of silence before anyone else spoke.

“Black Leader, who’s flying Red One.” It was Jessika Pava asking, and you could hear the smile in her words. The two of you had always gotten along fairly well, and she was always happy to being flying alongside her. To hear her excitement simply from hearing your voice, you could feel your heart swell.

“That would be our very own admiral; [Y/N].” The pride in Poe’s voice was almost tangible and it made you all but beam in response.

“Good to have you back, ma’am.” Jessika announced, to which you chuckled. The brief hostility that you had felt after announcing yourself had melted away into the strong camaraderie between X-Wing pilots that made you feel as though you this was where you belonged, as though this was home.

“Hey, Admiral.” To your surprise, Poe had commed you directly, making sure the other pilots were on a separate frequency before he spoke.

“Yes, Dameron?” You asked, voice light, lighter than it had been in months. Whether it was adrenaline or simple excitement, everything just felt  _right_.

“Just in case things go south here,” he paused, long enough for you to interject that they wouldn’t; he waved it off, “ _just in case_ ,” he insisted, “I want you to know that I love you.” There was a pause and you could feel your breath catch in your throat. “Admiral?” Poe, usually so calm and confident, was nervous.

“I love you too, Poe,” at your words, you could hear him breath an audible sigh of relief, which only served to make you grin. “I’m sorry if I made you think anything different.” There was a long pause, and Poe made a thoughtful noise before answering.

“No, I knew.” He admitted, voice understanding, “Growing up in the Resistance is tough; you knew that better than anybody. Between all the political intrigue and people assuming your power was merely a birthright rather than something you earned, well it can be hard to trust someone. I’m glad you trust me.”

“There’s no-one I’d rather topple the First Order with.” You chuckled, but your voice was sincere, and a warmth spreads from your heart like nothing you’d ever felt before. Then it’s all over, and Poe gets a message from Finn and you all make the jump to hyperspace.

The attack on Starkiller Base begins and ends within half an hour, and something else ends, something much more serious, but you can’t put your finger on it, but you can feel it the moment it happens. It seems as though something’s gone very wrong, there’s more exploding X-Wings than TIE fighters, and Jessika’s screaming down the com, but she’s  _alive_ when it seems that so many aren’t…

And then Chewbacca returns without your father. And you return without half your squadron. People are celebrating, but there are also more empty spaces than there are X-Wings in the hangar and your mother is crying like you haven’t seen her do in years. The Resistance has survived to fight another day, but at what cost?

You survived. Poe survived. You won, but it doesn’t feel like a victory. 


	10. Oh, How We’d Fly {Rey}

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anon asked: Can I pls pls get a Rey imagine where the reader is her bff on Jakku, and when Rey leaves w/ Finn, she comes with them. Rey then confesses to Finn that his attempts to woo her won’t work, because she’s in love w/ reader?THANK(btw this is girlxgirl)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tumblr: thelastimagine
> 
> A/N: First things first, I’m so sorry. I’ve been applying for jobs and working through my denial-fuelled anxiety, now I’ve got one more to go. Secondly, this is cute, fun and about 6k, just as a warning.

The Jakku sun was usually unforgiving upon your skin, but after years of exposure, you had learned how to live with it. You kept yourself covered, layers upon layers stifling you in the heat, even as you found refuge in the shadow of wreckages. The sun, thankfully, had only just begun to rise, peaking over the edge of an immense sand dune, quickly dispelling the night’s chill. You had slept in the empty husk of a small freighter that had been mostly picked clean, shivering and alone, stranded after a fruitful day of scavenging that had left you with little time to get back to your own home. Now, with daybreak fast approaching, you prayed that your speeder had enough fuel to make it to Nima outpost before the sun reached it’s peak.

There was an undeniable sense of relief that washed over you as you arrived at the settlement, making a beeline for the cleaning station. Two days had passed since your last meal, a measly half-portion, you had gone longer, but it was never pleasant. With a light head, you scrubbed vigorously at the pieces you had collected, pricing them in your mind as at least two portions in total.

Despite the growling in your stomach and the ache of the sun on your skin, there was electricity running through your veins at the thought of seeing Rey once more. even though it had only been a day since you saw her, you were always eager to see her, and she to see you, you worried terribly about one another, especially when you were stranded in the desert alone at night. Jakku’s landscape was forever changing, and people had learned to prepare for the worst, it would be nice to give her some positive news, if only to see her face light up.

An old woman, the only other humanoid at the cleaning station, gave you a weak smile, too hungry to do little more than concentrate on her own efforts, a loud grumbling emanating from her stomach. Guilt flooded through you as you looked over the large assortment of objects you had scavenged to clean and trade, but you didn’t hesitate to offer her a few. She declined, petting your arm kindly, insisting you keep them. Jabbed in the back of the head by the Teedo behind you, you could hear them hiss angrily about poor work ethic, but you were silently glad they had hit you rather than her.

You focused solely on the metal in your hands, scrubbing vigorously and wearing a frown of intensity, so entranced in your job that you almost missed the enthusiastic beeping of a droid rolling past you. The Jakku’s harsh desert rendered everything down to various states of disrepair, so to hear the high trill of droidspeak whistling from such a strong speaker was a cause for attention. A little orange and white astromech droid was the source of the noise, trailing closely behind a girl whose very sight made your heart leap.

“Rey!” And with one word, your heart blossoms. There’s such relief in her eyes when she spots you, smile curling her lips. Holding you at arms length, she looks you up and down, surveying you, and what possibly damage you may have sustained.

“Where were you last night?” There’s a look of concern in her eyes, which you wave off immediately. Your ‘ _home_ ’ was little more the shell of a collapsed AT-AT, a remnant of the Galactic Civil War, but an effective enough shield against the elements. It was cosy between the two of you, and after so long living together, nights alone were anxiety inducing.

“I found a freighter out past the Crackle; I picked it clean, but lost track of time.” You admitted, Rey wrapping you in an embrace that you don’t hesitate to return. Simply being around her again put you at ease, you hadn’t even realised how on edge you had been. The droid that had been following her whistled loudly, bringing all attention back to them. “Who’s this?” The droid beeped proudly in response. “BeeBee-Ate, huh? And how’d you find yourself on Jakku?” You grinned, intrigued; Rey had always been the type to pick up abandoned droids, sometimes trying to salvage them, but more often than not selling them for food and water. Despite all this, the little droid -  _BB-8_ \- was different.

“Top secret.” Rey answers, knowing smirk directed to her little companion, who whirred in agreement. Neither you nor Rey had ever really spoken about where you grew up, not that it was a secret, it just wasn’t a topic either of you were interested in discussing. Scornful laughter filled your mind, your family mocking you bitterly, declaring you wouldn’t last a year offworld, saying that you’d lose your way, find yourself stranded and friendless on somewhere akin to Mustafar. Despite the similarities in temperature, every other prediction was wildly inaccurate.

It took relying on the kindness of strangers to get you from planet to planet, until finding yourself aboard the wrong ship. Dumped upon Jakku’s desert surface, you were left to roam, hungry and alone, until you came upon a tough, young girl stoutly refusing to back down from a gang of scavengers that was encroaching upon her salvage of the day. All you had was your blaster and the clothes on your back, it was enough. You helped take down the goons and when questioned about your motives, all you asked for was a place to sleep.

 _“You’re not from Jakku, are you?”_  She introduced herself as Rey, and staunchly refused to divulge anything else, even as she invited you back to her home for the night.  _”It’s only until you can set up your own camp.”_  She insisted, face hard, eyes squinting in the desert sunset. It takes a few months, but you prove yourself to be a useful scavenger and a loyal friend and Rey’s no longer inclined to kick you out. It takes a few years still, but eventually the prospect of spending even as single night alone was met with abject horror.

“Well, we know all about secrets.” Back in the present, your tone of voice is knowing, glacing at Rey out of the corner of your eye, watching as she ducks her head, smile curling at the edges of her mouth. BB-8’s as closed off as Rey had been, the first day you had met her, all they insist is that they have to find their master, and you catch the droid whistling that they’re ‘ _Very Important_ ’. You can’t help the laugh that escapes at the sight of the droid rolling forwards to puff out the chest it didn’t have, but neither Rey nor BB-8 seemed inclined to scold you.

Unkar Plutt offered a measly two portions for what you had managed to scrub clean, but you knew better than to argue, instead, collecting up your earning and waiting paitenly for Rey. As soon as she and the droid rolled towards his window, his eyes zeroed in on the shiny astromech, all but salivating at the prospect. Stepping up protectively behind the droid, should he try and take them by force, your eyes bug out of your head as his thick, leathery hand slammed sixty portions on the counter. Mouth watering, you considered that this amount of food, even food so textureless and bland, could keep the two of you fed for weeks, even months. Rey considered it, she really did, you could hear the way her stomach growled, but saw the turmoil in her eyes as she looked over the pile, and then to the droid.

There was no question as to her decision, and you watched as she took the simple half-portion she was offered for her own desert salvage, leaving the piles of portions behind to the dismay of those around you. The shameful growl of your stomach makes Rey look over at you with guilt in her eyes, even as the two of you make your way back to the market place. You wave her off before she even makes a word of apology.

“That Crolute would have torn BeeBee down for scrap metal; they deserve better.” Free hand resting on her arm, you can feel the way she’s shaking, you wonder how long it’s been since she’s had more than a half-portion. “You made the right choice.” Two portions in your own hand, your voice turns light, grin lighting up your face. “Between the two of us, we’ve got a veritable feast!” Rey breathes a sigh of relief, though she’s still visibly tense.

Like a hot knife through butter, BB-8’s squeal of distress cuts through the moment you and Rey had been sharing, and you turn in time to see a pair of Unkar’s goons wrap the droid up to be taken away. Between Rey’s staff wielding skills and your own hand-to-hand ability, it was relatively easy to take down the goons and free the droid who squirmed beneath the cloth, equal parts thrilled and terrified. BB-8’s whistle of thanks was cut short as they stopped dead, releasing a loud, high-pitched whistle of attention about someone they had spotted watching your trio.

 _[That man stole my master’s jacket!]_  They trilled, and your gaze sweeps to the man, who seems startled to have both you and Rey looking back at him. It’s only a moment, a moment to analyse him, to size him up.

“Him?” Rey asked, the droid whistling an affirmative. She looked to you, waiting for your signal. With a nod, the two of you spring into action, taking off at a run towards the figure. The man in question clearly hadn’t predicted that the two of you would run him down with weapons in tow, and took off, scurrying into the markets.

“I’ll follow, you cut him off.” Rey nodded sharply at your directions, taking a left down a side path. You remained on the thief’s trail, weaving through stalls until the two of you were met abruptly with Rey and her staff, unceremoniously knocking him to the ground. It was triumph that straightened your spine as you took your place beside Rey, hoping to appear imposing above this man.

“What’s your problem,  _thief_?” Rey spat, and all your triumph and menace was nothing in the face of her authority, heart fluttering against your ribs. She’s glowering at him when you chance a glance at her, and you have to remind yourself that now is not the time to be swooning over her.

“What?! Thief?!” It was easy to see how confused he was, but that was soon overridden by the sound of electricity crackling in the air as the little astromech zapped him in the leg. His yelp, a mix of pain and surprised, was quickly followed by his admonishment of the droid.

“The jacket,” Rey elaborated, bringing his focus back to it’s rightful place upon her, “this droid says you  _stole_ it.” You can feel yourself standing straighter, willing yourself to be as imposing as Rey naturally is, but there’s something about it that seems off, like your shoes don’t fit or your clothes are too tight; like you’re simply a child, sharing the magnificence of a true, terrifying power. Somehow the the thief didn’t realise, instead of cowering -  _an urge you yourself were trying to suppress_  - he actually seemed annoyed.

“I’ve had a pretty messed up day, alright? So I’d appreciate it if you all stop  _accusing_ me-” BB-8 seemed to be growing bored of his lack of an explanation, taking matters into their own hands and zapping the man once more. As he spoke, the man interrupted himself with another yelp of pain.

“Where did you get it?” You demanded, neither the droid’s actions nor the man’s reactions phasing you, not giving him the chance to finish his indignant rant. “It belongs to his master.” Something eased in the man’s shoulders as he finally listened, his face falling as his gaze swept from you to the tiny droid. There was pity in his eyes as he sighed heavily.

“It belonged to Poe Dameron, that was his name, right?” He looked between you and Rey for confirmation, but found none and turned to BB-8. The droid was silent, which seemed to be confirmation enough, though it still didn’t explain the jacket. You kept your mouth shut, however, as it was clear that the man wasn’t finished with his story. “He was captured by the First Order,” an involuntary shudder ran down your spine at their mere mention, “I helped him escape, but our ship crashed” there was a sincerity in his words that you didn’t often hear, and you couldn’t help but believe him. Belief or not, it was clear that his story was not a happy one by the way he looked at the droid, expression sombre. “Poe didn’t make it.” The way he said it, the way he took such care with the words, Poe had obviously meant a lot to the droid, this man knew that, but it was still dreadful to hear the droid let out a small, heartbreaking whirr, their head drooping. “I tried to help him, I’m sorry.” His attempt at comfort was turned down by the droid, who rolled away, dejectedly. You worried your lip between your teeth for the barest moment before realising that this man, this thief, perhaps wasn’t as dangerous as you had assumed, and you went after the little droid yourself.

“BeeBee-Ate?” Voice quiet but clear, it was a relief to hear the droid’s answering chirp, no matter had listless it was. They seemed to enjoy your company, nudging your leg softly despite your silence, releasing a long, sad beep, reminiscent of a sigh. “I’m sorry.” The droid whistles their thanks and no more is said, the two of you motionless, taking in the marketplace, trying to align the thoughts in your head with the words you wanted to say. You had only been standing for a few moments, you hadn’t realised how quickly you had zoned out, however you’re slammed back into your body as BB-8 let out a loud, anxious series of squeaks.

 _[They’re looking for me!]_  Your heart stops in your throat as you finally see the cause of alarm; the two goons from earlier were talking with a Stormtrooper, both pointing emphatically to where you were clearly visible. _[I’m part of the Resistance!]_ The astromech admitted, filling the silence with their anxious whirring. Without a second thought you head back to Rey and the man. The excitement in Rey’s eyes turns quickly to dread, and it hurts just a little to know that you’re part of the problem. There’s no time to dwell, the three of you going to check together, but are all but bowled over by BB-8, the Stormtrooper hot on their tail. “Run!” With a cry, you lead a scramble through the marketplace, before dropping back and making sure BB-8 is keeping up. There are lasers sizzling the stalls around you, and yet you can still hear Rey and the man arguing ahead

“Why are they shooting at  _all_  of us?” Rey’s cry pierced through the brief reprieve you were given, finding sanctuary in a relatively enclosed stall. Breathing heavily, you took a moment to check in with her, check that she was still alright. She gave a half-smile and a nod, and that was good enough for you.

“They saw you with me; you’re marked.” The man was rummaging through the scrap metal that adorned the benches and hung overhead, looking for something,  _anything_ , but turned up nothing.

“Well thanks for that!” Rey snapped, causing the man to turn on her, frustration laced in his every move, from the way he walked to the twitch of his hands.

“Hey, I’m not the one who chased  _you_  down with a stick.” His words a passive but bitter retaliation, going back to scour every available scrap. Rey turned her attention to the anxious droid beside her, asking it how it was going. “Does  _anyone_  have blasters around here?” You attention was pulled away from your friend as the man all but turned the store upside down in his efforts; a surge of guilt rushed through you at the realisation that you had left your own blaster with your speeder.

He swivelled sharply, eyes wide as saucer, a wearing a look of dread identical to yours at the unmistakable screech of TIE-Fighters overhead. Fear of the First Order was built into the foundations of your upbringing on the tiny planet you had grown up on, nestled firmly in the middle of the neutral territory between the New Republic and the First Order, bordering the Outer Rim. Bouncing between planets, usually neutral, but sometimes, unluckily, First Order controlled, had only served to strengthen that fear. TIE-Fighters on Jakku were few and far between, though the First Order had been far from your mind when you chose to stay, instead keeping your sights and hopes firmly pinned upon Rey, your new home and your new life. The sound of TIE-Fighters was more akin to the wail of a banshee.

Adrenaline pushes you to your limits, the TIE-Fighters laser cannons shaking the ground far worse than any luggabeast could, kicking up sand and sending your party sprawling across the desert. Rey’s some few meters away, struggling to her elbows, terror in her eyes as she spots you on the ground. Your wave is weak but apparently convincing, and there’s a flutter of something warm and nervous in your chest at the look of utter - and misplaced, all things considered - relief that washes across her face. The man is worse off than the two of you are, but Rey is helping him to his feet in no time, which you struggle to stand, swaying side-to-side as you try and fail to dispel the ringing in your ears. Suddenly, Rey’s hand is in yours and she’s pulling you along.

“Where are we going?” Your voice is far too loud and far too close, but even still, it sounds so very far away, above the ringing. Rey winces and refrains from answering, dropping both your hand and the man’s to pull forward and lead your charge. It’s not something that really preoccupies your thoughts, not in this strange, upheaval of your life. The pack takes a sharp right, following Rey’s lead, and suddenly, as the shipyard looms ahead, everything falls into place, relief filling you at the sight of it.

“We can’t outrun them!” The man, still following out of some twisted sense of self preservation, doesn’t seem to understand. Somehow, even while being shot at, by Rey’s side is the safest place to be.

“We might!” Rey’s voice strained to rise above the chaos of the TIE-Fighters, “In that Quad-Jumper.” The ship in question sad peacefully ahead, a single island of hope in the storm of movement.

“What?” He yelped. “We need a pilot!” A small, proud smile tugged at your lips, knowing Rey’s answer before she had even said it.

“We’ve got one!” Gesticulating to herself, none of you paused for consideration, and kept running.

“You?!” Another explosion sounded and he ducked reflexively, his gaze catching upon another ship in the sparse junk yard. “What about that ship?” You follow his gaze to the Corellian Freighter that had been sitting the junkyard for as long as you could remember. Covered by large, white clothes, parts of it looked as though they were held together by sheer force of will alone.

“That one’s garbage!” You call to him, the last of your words drowned out as another TIE-Fighter screams overhead, dangerously close and targeting your destination. The ship went up in flames with less of a fight and more of a bang, your party skidding to a horrified halt.

“The garbage will do!” Rey offered helplessly, and suddenly it was your turn to lead the charge, the three of you and BB-8 making a mad dash for Corellian Freighter, unfortunately the only space-worthy ship left.

“BeeBee, come on!” Aboard the ship, you sidestepped the other two who scattered to assume important positions within the ship. Of the two of you, Rey was undoubtedly the better pilot, logging far more hours into the flight simulation than you could ever fathom. Meanwhile the man -  _who was he?_  - seemed to be a member of the Resistance, or so you assumed, which left him with far more practical combat training than you could even dream of, which left you to close the door and check that BB-8 was secure.

“Gunner positions are down there!” Rey’s voice echoed through the ship, followed by, “[Y/N], you’re with me.” The sound of her voice lead you straight to the cockpit where you easily slid into the copilot’s seat, taking your position by her side.

“Do you know how to fly this thing?” His voice was muffled as he called through the ship, both you and Rey rather preoccupied with preparing for takeoff as best as you knew how. It was easy enough to follow Rey’s lead, and you were grateful that she was the one in the pilot’s seat.

“No.” Rey admitted. “This ship hasn’t flown in  _years_.” Her voice cracks a little on the last word and it’s with startling clarity that you realise she’s  _panicking_. You’re awash with guilt at not seeing it sooner, but remind yourself that you’re barely been here a minute. Rey’s murmuring to herself, unable to stand the silence in her current state, the dashboard coming to life beneath her fingertips as you both flicked switches in sequence. She’s panting from exhaustion, hands trembling with nervous energy and she can’t stop talking, stop  _thinking_ , can’t get out of her own head and her breathing’s getting worse. You did the only thing you could think of in order to snap her out of it

You kiss her.

It was barely a moment, but there’s nothing hostile in the way she regards you afterwards, with wide eyes and pink cheeks, if anything, she seems disappointed that you stopped. That isn’t a thought you can entertain right now, there’s more important things happening.

“I love you. I know you can do this.” Resting your hand on her cheek, you look deep into her eyes, acting unusually serious, however, it’s appropriate and she’s thankful for it. “Now  _fly_.” Her nervous murmurings died in her throat the moment your lips touched, but she turns back to the console with a solemn nod. Her breathing is calm, and her hands don’t shake. Rising smoothly into the air, the ship then proceeds to falter on both the take off and the turn to direct you all to clear skies, though there’s something undeniably cathartic about seeing it take out the junkyard’s entrance arch. You held a white-knuckled grip upon your seat that kept you firmly in place, though Rey hadn’t been afforded that luxury, and subsequently rammed into your side before you could stop her. A dark sense of satisfaction curled at the corner of your mind as you sat with the knowledge that you were stealing Unkar’s property, stealing back all those times he had left you to starve.

The man- the thief- the rebel- whoever he was, it was his distorted voice that rang through the ship, the ship’s movement making it difficult to make out. Suddenly, his voice came through, clear as a bell as he offered advice, which Rey accepted through gritted teeth. “Stay low, it confuses their tracking!”  

“BeeBee-Ate, hold on!” At the droid’s curious squeal, Rey didn’t even hesitate to answer, “I’m going low!” You could feel your stomach flipping as Rey looped the ship around, coming back low enough to skim the sand dunes, but it wasn’t the only reason. You could all but  _feel_  the energy, the adrenaline crackling off her, so passionate, so driven - it’s abundantly clear that now is  _definitely_ not the time to be swooning over her, but your mind remains focused on the thought of how nice her lips felt against yours, and how you were hoping,  _praying_  that you hadn’t ruined… whatever there was between the two of you. Heavy fire coming from two TIE-Fighters snaps you from your thoughts as both you and Rey flinch out of the way.

There’s a series of blinking lights on the the console to your right, along with a set of switches and buttons that you begin to press methodically, keeping an eye on their corresponding screen.

“What are you doing?” How she managed to convey a concerned frown through her voice alone was a marvelous skill, but perhaps not one suited to mid-battle, whilst she’s trying to fly a ship  _and_  look at the display that you’re watching intently.

“It’s the shield, now-” cut off by a close shot, you all but scream, Rey thankfully focusing back to the task at hand, “keep your eye on the desert!” Under Rey’s careful guidance, the ship skillfully ducks about the sand dunes frantically before being shook by another close call.

“What are you doing back there?” Rey yelped, eyes constantly assessing and reassessing the easiest way to lose the tailing ships. No matter what she came up with, the outcome never seemed good. “Are you ever going to fire back?”

“I’m working on it!” He sounded as distressed as you and Rey felt, which was somewhat relieving. “Are the shields up?” He asked, and you checked the monitor once more, heart rate picking up as it seemed like all of your lives rested upon your shoulders..

“Almost,” you yell back, sounding strained, “but they’re not at full capacity!” It was barely a moment before the little red symbol was replaced with a green, and your heart eased. “Good to go; fire at will!” And suddenly there was the telltale sound of a laser cannon firing beneath your feet, though it’s not followed by a cry of victory, nor the smoke of a defeated enemy in the sky.

“We need some cover!” You lose his voice to your own thoughts as the desert becomes sharply familiar all of a sudden. It’s surprisingly difficult to resist the urge to point out old landmarks and laugh in awe and delight at how small they are now.

“We’re about to get some!” Her voice is suddenly secure as the ship dips below the next ridge, spraying as it rounded the corner into the ship graveyard. Colossal structures all around, it was littered with the remnants of a long dead war, and perfect for cover if you knew the terrain. Rey’s piloting took you dangerously close to the dorman husks of the ships, weaving in and out, reducing the rate at which the ship was taking damage. One of the largest loomed ahead, coming dangerously close until she jerked the ship away at the last second, one of the TIE-Fighters sent to circumventing the machine and hopefully confuse them out of coming back.

The barest of murmurs came from your gunner, followed by an explosion of sound and lights. All at once, one of the TIE-Fighters is sent crashing to the desert below, much to the delight of the scavengers below..

“Nice shot!” Face lit up by a wide grin, you shout your congratulations back to him as Rey remains focused on the desert. There’s only one TIE-Fighter left and Rey can’t help but smile. It’s cut short, however, by a hit running through the ship and a cry of indignation from the man.

“The canon’s stuck in forward position, I can’t move it; you gotta lose him!” There’s distress clear in his voice, but that only serves to fuel Rey’s determination, her eyes fixed on the enormous, dormant Star Destroyer looming ever closer. The looks of utter perseverance stops any and all questions in your mind, you simply transfer auxiliary power to the shields and hold on for dear life.

“Don’t tell me to stop.” The serenity in her voice is jarring, all quiet amidst a gunfight, unable to look at you. Her words are firm, but there’s something about the set of her jaw, the look in her eye, that tells you that if you did, she’d turn around and give herself up, just to let you live.

“I won’t.” You had no illusions regarding Rey or her abilities, you knew what she was capable of and had the utmost faith in her. She was your friend, your partner, perhaps more, and you wouldn’t start doubting her now because your own fears.

“Get ready!” Voice calm and secure, she’s addressing the man now, and his voice comes back nervous but determined.

“OK… For what?” And it’s too little too late as you’re swallowed into the belly of the beast, pinpricks of light filtering through the hull, leaving all else to be lit by the red and green flashing of the console. “Are we really doing this?” Though he is clearly nervous, there’s a resignation in it; there’s no other choice.  

TIE Fighter still on your heels, the darkness is lit more often than not by explosions from structures in front of you more - you can actually see the fear on Rey’s face as she looks ahead. The exit becomes clear -  _relatively clear_  - as another structure goes up in flames, and you’re taking a sharp right, bursting from the Star Destroyer mere moments before impact. Rey heaved all her weight, flipping a switch to flip the ship, thereby angling the cannon but putting the ship in freefall.

 _This is it, this is how I die_ , The thought bounces around your mind for the barest of moment, but then there’s the sweet sound of laser fire and Rey’s hauling the ship right-side-up. It’s automatic, your move to divert all power from the shields to the engines in order to stabilize the ship, and your ears are filled with an exuberant yelp of triumph as the TIE-Fighter crashes into one of the graveyard’s metal objects. An overwhelming sense of accomplishment washes over you, chest easing, shoulders relaxing, thankfully having escaped with your life.

Rey easily broke from the planet’s orbit, setting the ship to autopilot as you returned power to it’s automatic distributions. In the aftermath, it was all so quiet, so calm, the two of you given silence enough to breath and to think. It’s with ecstatic grins that you turn to one another, so thrilled to simply be alive, Rey throws her arms around you, allowing you to pick her up and spin her. She’s giggling in your ear and there’s so few things in the universe that have given you such joy. The man’s returning from the gunner’s position and Rey rushes out to meet him, leaving you to your own thoughts as you came down sharply from your excitement.

You had kissed her. Kissed  _Rey_. She was your  _everything_ , had been her friend for years, had  _loved_  her for years; you were so thrilled to be around her, so scared that your ties would break, and now here you were, one  _stupid_  lapse of self control later. The two of you had shared a home, shared a bed, shared food and your lives, for  _years_ , yet one thoughtless action could make that all disappear. The though filled you with anguish and guilt; guilt for ruining your own happiness, for shooting yourself in the foot, but your mind turned to the way her eyes shone, the sound of her laughter and how tight she held you only moments ago, and perhaps not everything was lost,  _perhaps_ , your traitorous mind purred,  _she may even feel the same way as you_.

“I don’t know your name…” There’s something so goddamn soft about her voice that it makes you pause, your heart falling as you remain hidden around the corner, not wanting to ruin their moment together.

“Finn.” The name rolls easily off of his tongue, you weren’t certain what you were expecting, but the name suits him.

“I’m Rey.” She provides, and then there’s silence. Each passing moment filled you with even deeper guilt; if you simply round the corner now, will they know you’ve been listening to them? You’re saved from your worrying by Finn’s questioning voice.

“And the girl who was with you? What’s her name?” If there was ever a time to reveal yourself, now would be it, however Rey answers with a smile audible in her words before you’re even given a chance.

“[Y/N],” and you’ve always loved the way Rey said your name, but there was no greater feeling in the world than the swooping of your stomach that accompanied her addition of;  
“she’s my girlfriend” It’s a weird blend of forcibly casual and obviously nervous that it catches you off guard more than the words themselves. Actually, no, the words are surprising, but definitely not unwelcome.

Both Finn and BB-8 make acutely similar noises of realisation, though the moment is undercut by a sharp bang of something pressurised exploding, followed by the hissing of a gas as it escaped. A torrent of white mist erupts from a vent close enough to make you jump, giving away your hiding spot, though it hardly seems to matter. Rey wastes no time in pulling away the grate, blushing deeply when she spots you. It was more or less routine by now, Rey isolating and identifying the problem while you found the right tools for the job, banter flowing easily between the two of you, reminiscing about scavenging on Jakku - yesterday was a world away.

“Pilot screwdriv-” usually Rey is fairly up in arms about being interrupted, but not so much when you do it with your mouth on hers. Flustered, both from the kiss and the situation as a whole, it’s a cute look on her, even as she’s swatting you away. “Not now.” There’s a smile on her face as she admonishes you and a sparkle in her eyes when you hand her the tool she was after. There’s relief in the way she goes about her work, she knows that you heard and she’s glad for it, glad you can be so openly affectionate, glad you came with her on this adventure. “Where’s your base?” Her voice is serious as she talks to Finn, but she’s smiling still. Everything in your life is moving so fast, so loud and happening so much that you barely have time to wrap your mind around it, but all you have to do is glance over to know Rey’s by your side, and your heart eased at the knowledge that that wouldn’t change any time soon. The two of you had survived Jakku together, you could survive anything.


	11. Where My Heart Lies {Finn}

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anon asked: Can you do an imagine of Finn and the reader under the mistletoe and he doesn’t know what to do. Just a bunch of fluff everywhere!
> 
> Anon asked: I don’t know if you’re taking requests, but could I maybe request something super tooth-rottingly, romantically fluffy with Finn? There is absolutely nothing for him, and it breaks my heart! I’d write it myself but clearly you got all the writing talent between the two of us :’)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tumblr: thelastimagine
> 
> A/N: So this is a Christmas special, and I apologise to all my followers who a) don’t celebrate Christmas, b) thought I would write this in time for the holiday season, and c) didn’t ask for this at all, but it’s here now. Also, it’s super fluffy and yeah… I love Finn at lot.

“Hey, what’s this?” Finn’s voice, confused and vaguely worried, echoed through the hall of the Resistance Base, fairly close to where you found yourself. Free days were a luxury you didn‘t often get, and you had made the most of it by decorating the halls and common areas of the base with tinsel, wreaths of baubles. Looping the string of tinsel you were about to start hanging, over your shoulder, you made your way to him, to where he was watching a motionless, green wreath hanging innocently on the wall.

Having Finn at the base was unexpected, but not unwelcome; he was usually being grilled for information by the General, or training with Poe. Finn looked rather relieved that it was you that, for lack of a better phrase, came to his rescue. The two of you had become fast friends, you had always thought it unnecessary and cruel to judge someone once they had defected, and he appreciated it.

Perhaps friendship wasn’t the right word; you had always felt drawn to one another, he had confined once, an unrelenting desire to be around you. In turn, all you wanted was to make him smile, for part of you believed his smile could light a room. No, friendship was definitely the wrong word,

“It’s just a wreath.” You explained, frank as always. Usually he appreciated your no-nonsense nature, but he was still left confused. He opened his mouth to question, but you predicted his words before he had even formed them, face softening as you pulled the tinsel from your shoulder and began to mechanically fasten it to the banister below the wreath, working as you spoke. “On my home planet, there’s this tradition every year,” you explained, and Finn’s face was a mask of intrigue and concentration, focusing on your work as much as your words, “it’s called Christmas.” You made your way through the corridor, side by side, as you strung the tinsel up. “You decorate your home and you exchange presents with people you care about.” Pausing your decorating efforts, you hummed thoughtfully, “Well, there’s more to it, but that’s the basics.”

“So the wreath; decoration?” He clarified, amused twinkle in his eyes as he poked light fun at his own lack of knowledge.

“Tradition.” You offered, deftly securing the tinsel to the banner. Huffing out a satisfied breath, you admired your work before turning back to Finn, who was watching you contemplatively. To meet his eyes was to allow yourself a moment to be simply be filled with the warmth and kindness his gaze held, it took your breath away.

“What are some other ‘ _Christmas_ -” the word sounded simultaneously so familiar and yet, so strange as he spoke them, mouth moving uncertainly through the phrase, “traditions?” Head tilted to the side, his eyes were bright and curious, face open and expressive. In a rush, it occurs to you just how foreign the concept of celebration was to the the ex-Stormtrooper, your heart aching at the realisation, though you tried to not let it show on your face; you were never one to pity him, you didn’t intend to start now.

“It was this huge affair back on my homeworld,” voice wistful, you allowed yourself to slump against the wall beside Finn as you explained, “family and friends from across the galaxy gather to feast and enjoy each other’s company.” Without meaning for it to happen, your face fell and you straightened up, tugging at the edge of your shirt distractedly. “That was a long time ago, for me,” you admitted, voice quiet, “the Resistance keeps me busy now,” a smile tugged at the edge of your lips when you looked up at Finn, who was watching you intently, vaguely worried at your sudden mood shift, “But there are a few on base who celebrate, and we make time to get together, pool our rations and have a feast of our own.” You hummed thoughtfully before chuckling, “Snap’s awful jokes are the only thing that resemble some sort of consistency, but… well it’s nice.” You mused, sighing somewhat sadly.

“It’s tradition, right?” Finn asked, tentatively, snapping you out of your thoughts, your expression turning to a bright grin at the sight of his small smile.

“Yes, I suppose it is.” The two of you made your way to the pilots’ common area, which was little more than a few sofas and a large holoscreen, however the two of you passed the seats in favour of standing by the window, overlooking D’Qar’s thick savannah. It created the perfect backdrop, your conversation bright, flowing easily to the sense of community fostered in military ranks, with you absent mindedly playing with a length of gold tinsel.

“There was never anything quite like this, not for us Stormtroopers at least,” Finn rarely went into details about his time serving the First Order, and that thought alone kept you from talking, from interrupting him. “But a few of my superiors would had this one day a year where they’d drink Corellian whiskey and hide from  _their_  superiors.” He thought it over, scratching at his chin, contemplatively, more than anything else.

“Were they ever caught?” Voice soft, you wondered if he had even heard you. It appeared he had, as you watched him close off suddenly, expression left with little more than a bitter frown. Your heart sank. “I’m sorry, we don’t have to-”

“No, it’s just… one year Phasma found out and-” His frown deepened, but he didn’t seem inclined to continue, shifting from foot to foot uncomfortably for the moment. His gaze drifted to the window before he squared his shoulders and looked back at you, shooting for a smile. “What’s your favourite?”

“Huh?” Eloquent as always, you were left to catch up. Finn grinned at your confusion, but you couldn’t help but be captivated by the warmth in his eyes, despite his obvious hesitation.

“Tradition.” He elaborated, You remained silent, suddenly nervous, tugging the tinsel in your grip and trying to process your own thoughts. Finn allowed his gaze to wander over your face, small smile on his own. There was something so serene, so warm and comforting about him, about how his expression was nothing but positivity and encouragement, looking at you with big, dark eyes like you hold the secrets to the universe.

You ducked your head, the intensity of his gaze catching you off guard. You can feel your face heat up traitorously. “It’s dumb.” Your quiet admission had Finn scoffing, taking the tinsel from your hands and looping it around your neck like a scarf.

“It’s probably not.” He assured, despite your noise of protest. The tinsel had distracted you, caught you off guard, but as you were untangling yourself, you could hear yourself talking and knew that Finn was better at putting people at ease than he let on.

“Promise you won’t laugh?” Shooting for nonchalant, Finn graciously accepted the mistletoe when you presented it to him, and he strung it up beneath the windowsill.

“Promise.” His voice was serious, so earnest that you felt a rush of affection towards him.

“Mistletoe.” Once more, you could feel yourself blush, unable to look at Finn, though the word meant nothing to him and he was simply confused. Swallowing, you reached into your pocket to dig out the little, plastic sprig you had meant to hang with the other decorations, but hadn’t gotten around to it.

“So there’s this thing,” it’s not your typical conversation starter, but it’s also not your typical conversation, and you’re filled with a sudden, nervous energy that hadn’t been there moments before. You’re not certain why, all you know is that there’s a flock of butterflies in your stomach and despite his confusion, Finn’s very presence reassures you. “Well, technically it’s a plant, but it’s not native to D’Qar, so I made a plastic one.” Your movements are sharp and wudden, offering the mistletoe before he can refuse, your face still burning. He’s not looking at your face anymore, his eyes are train on the plastic plant in his grip, turning it over, analysing it, fascinated. “And well, you hang it up, and two people meet below it,” you hadn’t known just how nervous you were until you realised you were shaking. You stuffed your hands in your pockets and hope he hadn’t noticed, but he seemed to be engrossed in the mistletoe, before he suddenly holds it up above his own head, eyes bright and searching for approval in yours. It’s at this moment that you realise how intimate the concept of mistletoe is, and you wonder if it would be rude to leave now, to spare yourself embarrassment and possible heartbreak.

“Like us? Right now?” He asked. You forced yourself to relax and nod, managing a weak smile, even as your heart rate spiked in your chest, mind reeling with the implications of the little, plastic plant above his head.

“And then…” trailing off, you tried to simply shrug and gesticulte to communicate your meaning, and Finn, sensing your hesitancy, went to lower the plant. It was now or never, you decided. “We -  _the people under the mistletoe_  - kiss.” You can see the muscles in his arm tense, unable to lower the mistletoe, but unable to move, and his eyes go wide, cheeks flushing.

“I should probably… find a thing to get to…” Finn babbles, slowly lowering his arm. He still doesn’t move from his spot, the two of you little more than a foot apart, and his gaze flicks to your lips, hardly subtle. But something about his voice, his awful attempt at an excuse, managed to break the silence but not the tension.

“Yeah, I mean, it’s tradition, but it’s not like  _tradition_  tradition,” usually so frank and concise, you were suddenly at a loss, babbling simply to fill the silence without thinking, “I mean, yeah no, it  _is_  tradition tradition, and it’s like, my favourite tradition-thing,” you were well aware that you were digging yourself a deeper hole, but part of you didn’t want to leave, “but we don’t have to  _kiss_  or whatever.”

“We could start a new tradition.” He offered, “Christmas…  _high fives_ …?” The wince in his words was almost tangible, even as he held his hand up. Neither of you was fond of the idea, but you high-fived weakly, reaching wearing almost identical masks of discomfort. “Ok, so that wasn’t my best idea.” He conceded, swallowing thickly before adding. “We should probably stick with  _actual_  tradition.”

“Well, there’s no need to mess with what works, right?” You smiled nervously, giving him a helpless shrug. There was an excitement running through you now; you had always been drawn to Finn, perhaps you were finally going to get some answers as to why, or perhaps he felt it too. Whatever it was, there was something soft and nervous in his eyes.  

“You’re definitely OK with this?” He asked, and you nodded without hesitation, leaning forward and closing the distance between you.

The first kiss was undeniably  _awkward_ , barely more than the brushing of lips against lips, chaste and brief. Your hands were still in your pockets, balling uncomfortably into fists, and the two of you pulled away, both feeling unsatisfied.

“That didn’t count.” Finn frowned, and you nodded vigorously in agreement. Passion and enthusiasm brought you back together for a second kiss, your arms wrapping around his neck as he pulls you close. The uncomfortable gap between your bodies closes with Finn’s hands around your waist and the mistletoe having fallen to the floor, forgotten. It’s with an almost heady laugh that you pull away, resting your forehead against his, the both of your grinning  at one another, still wrapped up in your embrace. Finn’s chuckle is deep and warm, his eyes never leaving yours as he spoke, “So do I need to hold that mistletoe up again, or-?” Your answering laugh makes him grin wider, though you didn’t think that was possible, and you cut him off with another kiss. Yes, mistletoe was  _definitely_  your favourite tradition.


	12. Save A Lot {Kylo Ren} 1/2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anon asked: Can you do an imagine where the reader and Kylo are best friends since childhood and they both are on a mission and they get in deep trouble and the only way to make it out is by pretending they’re a couple and by proving it they kiss and they feel this deep connection.
> 
> dracvmalfoy asked: kylo imagine where u are part of the resistance but u knew him before he went dark?(: thanks!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tumblr: thelastimagine
> 
> A/N: OK, so for background, Ben’s been using the Force for several years, but he’s never done intensive training with Luke. I’m not usually going to be doing series or two-part fics so this is exciting for me. 8.5k words over the two; WOW. Let me know your thoughts!

This was  _your_  mission. General Organa -  _Leia, she’d said you could call her Leia_ \- had given it to you specifically and you wouldn’t let a little thing like Ben Solo get in your way. **  
**

“I’m a _Jedi_ , [Y/N]; so tell me why they didn’t ask me?” Why he had followed you all the way to Nal Hutta was beyond you, but nevertheless, here he was, three steps behind, wearing a black cloak that was too big, even for him, and the beginnings of a smile curling at the edges of his lips.

“You’re a  _Padawan_ , there’s a difference, Ben.” You retorted, voice loud and condescending, playful smirk on your lips. He rolled his eyes pointedly, swatting you away. “Does your mom even know you’re here?” The way Ben avoided your gaze was answer enough and you clapped your hands together excitedly, smirk spreading into a full grin. As close as you and Ben were, you would never pass up potentially annoying him. He was your best friend, after all.

“Don’t be like that.” He huffed, defensive. “Isn’t this place a little dangerous for you?” Tugging his hood further down his face, your proximity to him was the only thing that meant you could see his raised eyebrows. You nudged his ribs, fond smile on your face.

“Are you  _concerned_?” Though it was intended as playful, he had a point. As the two of you had been talking the amount of looks you had gotten from passers by had become worryingly frequent.

“What are you even doing here?” He asked, voice barely more than a whisper as the two of you turned down an alley, walking shoulder to shoulder. It’s nicer than you expected, given the situation, and you’re face with a relatively busy market, populated by loud, unsightly creatures and their horrifying wares. You’re only a few stalls in when you catch the briefest glint of shiny, white armour ahead. Ben pushes you against a wall hard enough that it hurts the back of your head, but before you can complain, he presses his hand to your mouth, the other braced on the wall beside you. His eyes are staring intently into yours, his face mere inches from yours- you can count the freckles on his nose.

“Stormtroopers.” He informed, and his voice is a hushed whisper. Despite the very real danger, you can’t help but roll your eyes at his theatrics, licking his hand to try and get him to remove it. He doesn’t, he simply glares at you. Calling him some  _less than pleasant_  names, your words are muffled by his hand, and it takes a few moments before he finally lets go. You’re ready to complain or tease him, whichever comes first, but instead he moves closer, and you find yourself unable to look away. “ _Why_  are we here?” He growled.

“If you don’t know then you shouldn’t have come.” You hissed back, on alert and resisting the urge to kick him in the shin.

“If you don’t tell me, I will simply take it from your mind.” His voice was suddenly a whisper in your ear and an involuntary shudder ran down your spine. “We both know I can take what I want.” You swallowed hard, unable to look at him. You felt like a live wire, electricity crackling in the air, in the way he looked at you.

“We both know that’s not true.” You murmured, mocking his deadpan tone whilst trying to slow your suddenly racing heart. Swallowing thickly, you act on your impulse, wrapping your arms around him and burying your face into the crook of his neck, safely hidden by his hood. Ben’s breath catches in his throat, if only for a moment. “I’m here to get information.” Explaining your mission in a voice barely more than a whisper, Ben nodded. “Your father has a contact in Kanijklub who is offering information about the First Order;” He tensed at the mention of his father, but remained quiet, “before you ask, no, I don’t know what information. I’m just a middleman.”

After what feels like an eternity, you feel Ben wrap his arms around you and pull you close. “This is  _dangerous_.” His voice was barely audible, and you’re not entirely sure what he’s referring to, only that you agree. Not that you’d give him the satisfaction; this was  _your_ mission after all.

“ _You’ve_ made it dangerous.” Sighing, you shake your head, voice remaining quiet and level. Of course Ben has to go and make it sound like an exciting case of espionage, he always had a flare for the dramatic. Serious expression on your face, you lean back in order to look Ben in the eye, cupping his jaw to keep up the intimate ruse. “Look at my face, Ben.” You insisted, though there was something akin to amusement in his eyes. “It’s a good face. People  _trust_ this face. That’s why General Org-  _Leia_ asked me and not you.” If he leaned into your touch as your thumb grazed his cheek, neither of you mentioned it. In the meantime, he made an unflattering noise, pouting.

“What’s wrong with my face?” He asked, though it was closer to a whine. You snorted, tapping his cheek affectionately before wrapping your arms around his neck..

“ _Nothing_ , but you’re tall and have this, like, brooding air. The contact is apparently very skittish; you don’t exactly put people at ease.” You mused, eyes shining with amusement of your own.

“What did I do to warrant this?” He groaned, mock offended as you giggled and pressed a kiss to his cheek. Springing up onto the tips of your toes, you brush his hood to the side and perch your chin on his shoulder, trying - and failing - to look nonchalant as you surveyed the alleyway. The Stormtroopers were nowhere to be seen, thankfully, but a woman selling suspicious looking meats looks pointedly from you to Ben and winks exaggeratedly.  _Gross_.

“They’re gone.” You announced quietly, slipping from his embrace like nothing had happened. The pink tint to his cheeks leaves you quietly triumphant and it takes him a moment to think before he falls into step behind you. You make it through the alley with little fuss and no more Stormtrooper sightings, quietly bickering the entire time until the main road of the city comes into view. It’s not impressive by any standard, but it is Nal Hutta, so there’s not really a lot to expect. It’s a relatively bustling street, smog thick in the air, the sleazy cantina across the street oozing with patrons and their poor decisions, even for what passed as an afternoon on this world. That was the designated meeting spot between you and the Kanjiklub informant; you were not especially pleased.

“You weren’t just chosen because of your face.” Ben, always willing to push a delicate subject, is looking at you rather than the street. “I know what you’re thinking-”

“No you don’t.” You cut him off, rather impatient. Speeders were zooming past at every moment and you had to time your crossing  _just right_.

“And you’re not insignificant.” He growled, and you clenched your jaw, finally dragging your gaze away from the traffic, to Ben, who was looking at you with his big, brown eyes like you hung stars in the sky. You two had always given each other hell, but it was well documented that you would go above and beyond for Ben; for him to be so openly doting upon you, something was different.

“Listen, they chose me, because if this deal goes south, nobody important gets hurt. It’s  _me_ not General Organa that’s in the line of fire here. Lose a little to save a lot.” You shoved his shoulder, trying not to think about the meaning behind your words. “ _That’s_  why they didn’t ask you.” You dropped your gaze to your hands, away from Ben’s pitying expression.

He’s quiet for a long moment.

“Go back to your ship, Ben.  _Go home_.” You insisted, and left a quiet Ben Solo in the alley. The bartender at the cantina regarded you cruel, cold eyes, offering little more than a smirk and a head nod towards a back door when you offered up the passphrase. It was quieter outside, simply a dimly lit back alley with a broken sanitation droid and a man with an uncomfortably spiky hairdo. His casual posture against the wall juxtaposed the gun in his hands, cocked and aimed directly at you.

“This reminds me of home.” You could barely speak for your heart in your throat, but something eased in the man’s stance as he looked you over, analysing you with calculating eyes.

“Then you must have lived in a dump.” He snapped back, still hostile, but relaxing his grip on his blaster. The important thing was that he had said his return phrase and it seemed Ben’s terrible sense of humour was hereditary.

“Delphi Kloda?” You asked tentatively, and he nodded, gaze flicking to the end of the alley. You turned instinctively, but no-one was there.

“[Y/N]? Are you alone?” He asked as you turned back. Little red signal flares began to go off in your mind and your hands itched to grab your blaster. All you did was nod.

“As was arranged.” You confirmed, throat feeling dry though your palms were sweating. “And you?” He hesitated before nodding.

“Of course.” There was a pause. He seemed uncomfortable, and while it was expected, it still served to put you on edge. “Where is the money?” You would do all you could not to prolong this encounter, and as such, you didn’t hesitate to reach into your pocket to pull out an envelope of credit and subtly check that your comlink was still on you. He took the envelope with twitching fingers, counting diligently until satisfied. You both turned at the sound of a scuffle coming from the end of the alley; your heart sank at the sight of Ben’s familiar face. He was being dragged by his collar by a man, similar in both build and attire to Kloda, who adjusted his gun, his glare shifting between yourself and Ben,.

“I found  _him_  skulking around, he was asking…  _questions_.” The man - the guard, you had figured - had a voice that was more of a gravelly growl, his grip didn’t seem inclined to loosen on Ben’s shirt and Ben himself seemed oddly restrained. Your informant was giving you furtive glances.

“Do you know this boy?” He asked. You swallowed thickly, avoiding Ben’s gaze and making a snap decision.

“ _No_.”

Kloda hummed thoughtfully before gesturing to the guard with a dismissive flick. “Kill him.” You finally meet Ben’s eyes and you realise you’ve made the wrong decision just as the guard’s poised with his blaster.

“Stop!” He hesitated, gun hovering by Ben’s temple, and the padawan looks as though he’s considering some very  _un_ Jedi-like courses of action. Kloda narrowed his eyes at you, waiting impatiently for an explanation. “I thought… I thought if you thought… that I didn’t know him, that he would be spared.” You babbled.

“You did not come here alone.” He snarled, baring his teeth at you.

“Looks like we both lied about that.” With a hardened resolve, you cocked your hip, glaring at the guard rather than the informant himself.

“So…” Seemingly put out, the informant’s lips curled into a sneer, though he was substantially calmer. “Who is he?”

“His name’s Ben-” Answering automatically, Kloda cut you off with an angry bark of laughter.

“I don’t care about that! Who is he  _to you_?” He demanded, eyes boring holes into your, you felt yourself flinch under his intense gaze. So much for him being skittish.

“He’s my-” your tongue felt heavy in your mouth and for a moment you were lost for words. Who was Ben? Undoubtedly, he was your best friend, you had grown up together, there was no-one you trusted more. He was the son of your mentor, however you knew bringing the General into this would surely put a price on his head - you’d already made one bad decision today. “I love him.” You announced, avoiding looking at Ben and refusing to let your body give you away by something so base as blushing. Kloda made a noise of interest, adjusting his grip on his gun, and for a moment you were filled with terror. “If you hurt him in any way, you can bet that every pilot in the Resistence and every Stormtrooper in the First Order will know your name and what you’ve done,  _Kloda_.” Snarling, you took a step towards him, bringign yourself to your full height in order to glower, “I’m gonna guess you’ve made a lot of people mad, and you know what? Ben and I saw some Stormtroopers earlier;  _would you like me to go get them_?” You spat, and Kloda took a step back, masking his fear poorly with anger.

“The First Order would kill you.” He chuckled darkly. “You would give yourself up so easily? For the Resistance?” He asked, your eyes flicked to Ben, who looked as though he was trying as hard as he could to remain calm and focused.

  
“For him.” It was the truest lie you had ever told. “The Resistance would continue without me, but they  _would_  hunt you down. Lose a little to save a lot.” With conviction in your voice, your reasoning was solid; you weren’t sure if they would call your bluff, but so far they seemed to be buying it. “ _Let him live_.” You commanded. Ben stumbled towards you when the guard finally relented and let him go. Kloda held out his hand to keep him from getting close.

“The one who sent you here, he owes us a great deal, they say he has a son; a  _Jedi_  named Ben.” Voice is low and contemplative, he can’t see Ben’s expression struggling to remain serene as if he wasn’t moments from throwing caution to the wind and bolting out of there.

“Ben  _Solo_?” You asked, voice filled with a disgust, for a moment, Ben looks hurt before he realises your ploy. “He is may be a Jedi, but he is also  _insufferable_.” Pointedly rolling your eyes, you cross your arms defensively.

“Surely you know that Jedi are forbidden from falling in love.” Ben added, frowning at your apologetic look, guilt flowing through you before the next words were out of your mouth.

“Though whether he is capable of such complex emotion is up for debate.” Derision heavy in your tone, Ben visibly winced. You’d apologise later.

“Do others share your disgust?” It was the most unsettling thing, to see Kloda looking as though the information he was receiving was gilded and giftwrapped. Humouring him was the only option, if only to keep Ben alive.

“With a father like Han Solo, do you really need to ask?” Ben looked as though he was stuck between being offended and agreeing with you, but Kloda let him go, too pleased with this tidbit to be harbouring any ill will. “Now, the information.” With your hand aloft, waiting for the data storage device, the two of you exchanged formal pleasantries.

“As always,” Kloda, with a smile that looked more like a grimace, watched as the guard deposited the data storage device in your waiting palm, “a pleasure doing buisness with you.” His awkward nod was abrupt and immediate dismissal for both yourself and Ben, and you couldn’t be more pleased. Ben himself simply refused to look at you, wearing an unamused glare like a king’s crown.

“Don’t be mad at me.” Your voice was quiet as you snatched Ben’s hand, the two of you heading down the alley to the side street it lead to. He looked down at your joined hands and didn’t seem inclined to untangle them, his expression softening.

“I could have taken care of myself.” He insisted, quietly bitter about the standoff. He didn’t like feeling helpless, least of all against those he knew he could easily best. Kloda and his guard were feigning a conversation behind you, whilst watching yourself and Ben through narrowed, unimpressed eyes.

“In any other situation, that’s true, but if they discovered who you really were, neither of us would have made it out of there.” Squeezing Ben’s hand affectionately, you hoped he could see your side. He came to an abrupt stop, turning to face you, and you look up at him with confusion. “What’s wrong?”

“The guard’s not buying it. He never bought it.” His gaze isn’t upon you, but rather upon the wall to your left. You touch his cheek softly, his expression is conflicted but he leans into your touch.

“I think I know what we have to do.” Voice a hushed whisper, you take in a deep breath. “If you do this, you’ll be saving my life - saving this data storage device - and all it’ll cost you is a little bit of dignity.” He chuckled quietly, his expression fond as he looked at you. “Ben, please,” you whispered, “at least  _pretend_  that you love me.”

“Okay.” He agreed, and kissed you. Hard. Much harder than you had expected. It may be that he was still harbouring bitter feelings about what you said to Kloda about him -  _about Ben Solo_  - but it didn’t matter. This was Ben, you trusted him unconditionally, he was your closest friend, you’d do anything to make him happy. And now, here he was, kissing you, and everything felt  _right_. You kissed him back, gasping into the kiss as he bit your lip softly, backing you up until your back hit the wall, much softer than before.

“What are we doing?” There’s a smile on your face that says that you don’t really care for an answer, but Ben smiles back, the playful smile that had drawn you to him in the first place. He was often conflicted, but that smile was a beacon of light.

“I’m saving your life.” He teased, his voice low and husky. Heart beating painfully in your chest, your gaze flicked to where you had last seen Kloda and his guard. They weren’t there.

“He’s gone.” You whisper, gaze locking with Ben’s. The ways his eyes sparkle makes your stomach flip and he cocks his eyebrow, barest hint of a smirk on his lips.

“Do you care?” His question startled a laugh out of you and you can see the ways his eyes light up at the sound of it. Shaking your head fondly, you answer.

“Not at all.” And you lose yourself in his embrace; if you could stay forever in this moment, you would, just the two of you, his lips on yours, away from prying eyes and annoying pilots. It’s with a jolt that you realise you’re being lifted off of the ground, and not by Ben… well, not entirely by Ben. He stumbles back when you shove him, though you spent a moment suspended in mid air before gravity kicks in. “Were you using  _The Force_  to lift me up?” Half-annoyed, half-impressed, you take a moment to scramble to your feet and smooth out your clothes. At Ben’s semi-guilty murmurs, you rolled your eyes. “Come on, we should be heading back anyway.” He looks as disappointed as you feel, but only for a moment.

“On the way back, we’re going to have a serious talk about your allegations towards my Jedi abilities.” He huffed, falling easily back into your old routine. You meet his statement with a groan, though the familiarity of the banter makes your heart sing.

“Come on, Ben, you know that I only said that to get Klado off my back.” Whining, you took a moment to pause and shoot him a grin. “Though I think the bit about Jedi not being able to fall in love was a nice touch.” Immediately after the words left your mouth, your eyebrows knitted into a frown and you cleared your throat loudly. “Don’t think about that too hard.” You murmur, more to yourself than to Ben, who simply barked out a laugh. “I can’t believe you honestly relied on the stupidity of Kanjiklub to keep you alive.”

“It’s the only consistent thing about them.” He insisted, casually. Shaking your head, you let out a heavy, mocking sigh.  

“You know that’s not true.” You groaned, and he grabs your hand, stopping you in your tracks. His expression is unusually deadpan when he turns to you.

“They’ve twice failed to capture my father,  _twice_ , [Y/N].” He murmured, and all you could do was laugh. His expression softened and the two of you continued on. The stories of General Solo’s somewhat  _unorthodox_  business ventures were well worn, more like bedtime stories than thrilling sagas to ones who had heard them as often as you two had. It’s nice, though, the thought that some things never change.

Neither of you feel the need to mention the kiss again, not on the flight back to D’Qar, not over dinner in the mess, not when neither of you can sleep and spend the night looking up at the stars. You  _definitely_  don’t mention the kiss when he’s kissing you again. It’s been a week since your mission and spending nights atop base is surprisingly pleasant. The world around you is asleep, but the moon is bright and so are his eyes.

“I love you.” You tell him, nervous as anything and unwilling to let it show.

“I know.” He responds automatically, visibly wincing. It looks for a moment as if he regrets saying the words at all, you can feel your heart drop, but he adds, “I mean, I love you too.”

You don’t talk about it because feelings are messy and complicated Ben’s your best friend; you don’t  _want_  things to be messy and complicated, but the world doesn’t work like that and hard choices have to be made.

“My mother wants me to train with Luke.” He’s not looking at you, rather at the stars above. They’re beautiful tonight. “I’d be away for a long time.” If there was a time in your life in which you could feel your heart as it stopped beating in your chest, this would be the moment.

“To become a Jedi?” He nodded. You hoped that he couldn’t hear how shocked you were. “You-” throat feeling very dry all of a sudden, you thought very carefully about your next words. “You should go.” It hurts to force the words from your mouth, but you promise yourself that you won’t react. Ben frowns. “Being a Jedi is more important-”

“Don’t say it’s more important than you.” He finally turns to you, and there’s that conflict in him that’s always been there. You made mistakes on Nal Hutta, you couldn’t do that again.

“We both know it’s true, Ben.” You murmured, and his kiss is so sweet, so caring that you want him to stay, but he can’t. The Force was bigger than you, you couldn’t deny it. “You should go. I don’t mind.” You lied.

“[Y/N]…” This was… unexpected. Part of him hoped that you would want him to stay, but in the back of his mind he knew that you would do whatever it took to keep him safe, to keep him  _thriving_ , even if it meant damaging yourself in the process. Lose a little to save a lot, as you would say.

Continuing the Jedi line was far more important than some pilot, everyone in the Resistance knew that, even Ben Solo. So neither of you talk about whatever  _this_ is the next day, and part of you is thankful when Ben doesn’t mention your red rimmed eyes when he’s boarding the shuttle. You’re struck with an unreasonable feeling that he’s taking something dear from you; it’s not his fault, it’s not anyone’s fault, but he still looks at you with sad apologetic eyes. Ben hugs you tighter than strictly necessary when the shuttle’s about to leave, telling you he’d be back to see you when he could, murmuring apologies. You kiss his cheek when he lets you go, tears now welling in your eyes.

“It’s OK, I’ll see you again.” You insist, and his smile falters, but he nods.  _Remember_ , you remind yourself,  _you chose this._


	13. Lose a Little {Kylo Ren} 2/2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anon asked: What if reader allowed Kylo Ren to kill her because (reader) wanted him to accomplish his goal and help him stay on the darkside?
> 
> Anon asked: Hey love. :) Could you maybe write a Kylo Ren imagine for me? Where he and the reader have a fight but when they make up he asks her to be his queen?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tumblr: thelastimagine
> 
> A/N: The first prompt was actually sent to the lovely and talented the-imagines-awaken, but they have graciously allowed me to use it, and I hope you’re not disappointed! I… don’t think this is what either of you were asking for, but it’s a long one and I hope you enjoy.
> 
> Warnings: Anxiety attack, reasonably graphic torture, blood and murder. Spoilers.

_I should have stopped him._

There’s a blood warm comfort as the words run through your mind, so often, so  _loud_  that it’s little more than routine at this point. A voice in the back of your head tells you that you wouldn’t have been able to stop him, that it was never your decision to make, but then you think of his eyes shining in the moonlight as he asked you to choose, like it had meant something, like it had mattered… You’d always be left thinking that you’d made the wrong decision.

_“[Y/N], could I speak with you for a moment?” Even your own thoughts were unkind to you, replaying the conversation you had with Leia all those years ago. Something was wrong, you could tell from the moment she had opened her mouth, her eyes were red rimmed and there was a catch in her voice before she spoke. Something had happened._

_“Of course, General, what’s wrong?” The professionalism that alienated you to the other pilots only served to endear you to the General as she gave a weak laugh._

_“I believe we’ve known each other long enough now, remember I said you could call me Leia.” She murmured, and you flinched involuntarily; the General -_ Leia -  _was never one to be avoidant. Something was very wrong. After a mumbled apology, you followed her into her office where she sat wearily behind her desk, uncertain of what to say or how to say it._

_“Is… is Ben OK?” There was a fear in your voice that made Leia’s face fall, and her hesitation was answer enough._

_“I know…” She faltered, forehead creasing into something that was a mix between pity and dismay, but not at you, perhaps just at the situation. “I know you were close to him.” Perhaps it was pity for you._

_“Please, just tell me.” Keeping the fearful tremble out of your voice was easier said than done, but your resolve was rewarded by the General’s determined nod. You could feel your heart beat hard against your ribs._

_“Ben has… has joined the dark side.” She held your gaze, waiting for you to react, but your eyes were glassy, unfocused, mouth agape. “He…” Her gaze dropped from yours and she allowed herself a moment to breath. She had watched the two of you grow up side by side, you were equals, you were friends, you were something more. A mother knows these things. The General also knew you, knew how close you were to Ben, and how volatile it could make you. She had lit the fuse, it was only a matter of time. “He, along with the other ‘Knights of Ren’ as they’re called,” She knew it was useless, could practically see her words sliding off of the white noise that had consumed your mind, and yet she kept talking. You could barely hear her over your thoughts, “murdered the last remaining Jedi Padawans and Luke disappeared, though I have been informed that he did survive.”_

_“Why are you telling me this?” Voice barely more than a whisper, tears stung your eyes, but refused to focus on anything around you. All you could see in your mind was Ben, asking you to choose._

_“You deserve to hear it from someone who cares about you.” Her voice is almost painfully calm. You find yourself abruptly standing, chair clattering to the ground after teetering on it’s back legs for a moment._

_“I should be hearing this from Ben.” Spluttering, you feel like a live wire, dangerous and burning hot, but you’re not sure why. Her words haven’t fully sunk in. “He should be here- I shouldn’t have let him go.” Blabbering now, with hands running through your hair, you’re itching to pace back and forth, a tight, nervous energy curling in your chest, getting tighter every second, making it difficult to breath. “This is my fault.” Voice catching in your throat, the tight feeling in your chest makes you wheeze, tears now flowing down your cheeks. There’s pity in the General’s eyes when she looks at you._

_“It’s not your fault, you couldn’t have known.” She insists, but it’s of little use; you don’t know how she’s managed to keep such a brave face._

_“He asked me- Leia he asked me if he should go and I said- I said-_  I said yes.”  _Your sobs grew louder and your wrapped your arms around yourself, holding tight, trying to keep yourself together with sheer force alone. Leia’s up in a flash, wrapping her arms around you and hugging you, trying to transfer her strength to you. She had watched you build yourself up alongside her son, she wouldn’t let his absence tear you down. “If… if I had just been selfish-” You whimpered into her shoulder, but she cut you off with a sad but knowing voice._

_“You thought you were doing what was right.” Leia murmured, and you nodded, weakly, trying to steady your breathing. “If he had stayed, he may have turned on you for all we know.” Leia’s voice was dark. You were still shaking, head pounding while tears still flowed._

_“But he would have listened to you; he loves you, Leia, you’ve always been his favourite.” Heart still beating painfully against your ribs, you tried to insist, breathing shaky. “And even if he did turn on me; lose a little to save a lot, right?” Your words sent a spike of fear through the General, she had only just begun to realise how much Ben had meant to you, and what you would do to save him._

Missions had become your only outlet, and you took any and all that came your way - and even some that didn’t. Espionage and sabotage came easy to you after a lifetime of having to maneuver a Force-Sensitive, though your skill as a pilot was wholly your own, and had begun to rival the great Poe Dameron’s. Actually, perhaps skill wasn’t the correct term as much it was blind luck, taking risks like it was your job (which it sort of was), escaping death so often it became more of a hobby.

Wearing your bitter disregard like a cloak, it allowed you to blend in with the shadier corners of the Outer Rim; all it took was the right place at the right time and your job was complete, you were an informant for the Resistance and along with the danger came the prestige and the reputation. People would whisper, would joke behind your back, that you were one tragedy away from following in Ben’s footsteps. That you could handle, it was the people who looked at you with pity in their eyes, voices soft and concerned, seeing your self destructive tendencies as a cry for help, or worse, as an apology. No-one  _said_ they blamed you, but it was no secret that you loved the Jedi Killer. Few could look past that. Even fewer trusted you.

Maybe they were right. It was inevitable, some twisted part of your mind, the part that still cared, knew you were going out of your way to get their attention; frequenting trade routes dense with First Order ships was only the beginning. With your inevitable capture looming over your head, part of you was even looking forward to it. You hated Ben for what he’d chosen, for what he’d done, but you loved him for who he was. If the First Order is what he wanted, you’d give him one less reason to turn back.

This is what you wanted, you told yourself, so it didn’t seem right to try and run when they had found you. There were two in the interrogation room with you, one, a gangly, red-haired man and and his unwavering voice, who spent more time looking at his holopad than at you. He asked your questions while the Silver Stormtrooper loomed over you, tasing you when you were silent and cutting you when you weren’t. Everything felt like it was on fire, but it seemed like more of a game to them than anything at this point. They realised you were uncooperative early on, despite your intentions you were still a Resistance fighter, and you remained tight-lipped on everything they asked about, confessing to everything they didn’t. Either way, these two were no run-of-the-mill Stormtroopers, they had authority. There was a compliment somewhere in that.

Despite that, the torture droid was the worst, it asked no questions, wanted no answers and never relented once it was given the opportunity to begin. Your name was still your own, such an easy thing to give away, but the annoyance on the officer’s face when you refused time and time again, that was worth it, for now. Despite the pain, it was clear these two were not intent on killing you, that honour was reserved for someone else it seemed, and as such, you had decided to only reveal your name to the person with the ‘ _honour_ ’ of hearing it- of killing you.

Hux calls the Stormtrooper ‘Phasma’, but you don’t really care, all you care about is her snarl of overt anger and disgust as you brag, with a split lip and bloody smile, how it felt to kill her subordinates one by one. Phasma, you learn  _very_  quickly, is collected, but only to a point. The blade in her hand slashed across your stomach, deep enough that spots appear in your vision and the combined strikes begins to overwhelm you. Hux mutters the words ‘ _Kylo Ren_ ’ like it means something, and apparently it does, as Phasma lowers her blade and storms from the room. You welcome the brief reprieve, though you know it won’t last. Hux gives you a cold, professional smile.

“Do not worry,” And it’s the most worrying thing you’ve ever heard. He’s only a few years older than you, and yet he acts as if he has decades of experience, “Ren will be with you shortly.” For a moment, your heart rate rockets and you can taste bile in the back of your throat, but you realise you misheard, and you’re disappointed despite yourself. You’re resting against the torture platform, head lolling back until you can see Hux’s disdainful look, a sickly grin sliding easily over your face.

“Am I presentable enough for your great and terrifying leader?” Sarcasm in your words, you spit blood at his shoes, though he seems remarkably unperturbed. Crossing the room, he tapping something on the side of the device you’re strapped to.

“Hardly.” The ginger wrinkles his nose, with one final tap, the angle of the device shifts dramatically and you find yourself lurching forwards. You don’t move - you can’t anyhow - but the platform you were ‘ _resting_ ’ against was now vertical, smooth and unable to be leaned against. Wrists aching, you barely have the strength to lift stay awake, let alone remain upright.

“So you’re the Resistance pilot. I was hoping for more.” A moment or an hour, who were you to tell the time between Hux leaving, smug look on his face, and the arrival of this new person, this new, familiar voice. “I see Hux and Phasma have spoken to you.” He muses, and you roll your eyes, lifting your head to glower at him.

“I don’t think that’s the right word, and if it is, your diplomacy could use some work.” Lips pulled back into a snarl, you finally take the time to analyse the imposing figure before you.

He sees your face and  _stops_. There’s a lightsaber on his belt and a flare of recognition goes off in your mind. He’s frozen, unable to move, unable to speak. You refuse to believe - refuse to hope.

“[Y/N]?” And it  _hurts_ to hear him say your name, so quiet it’s like a secret.

“And I hear they call you  _Kylo Ren_ ,” you glower, tamping down on any feelings that could make you regret your decision “I have to give you credit, none of the others could get my name, but I suppose a leader ought to have more insight into their prisoner.”

“What are you doing here?” He sounds shocked, which is definitely not what you were expecting. He sounded concerned. Surely a member of the First Order possessing a weapon like his would be above such basic empathetic connections.

“Well I’ve been working for years as an informant for the Resistance, so you tell me.” Smile sickly sweet, you glared right at where you presumed his eyes were. He had to take a moment before he spoke once more.

“Why would you put yourself in danger?” You were confused. If this was the best the First Order had to offer, you worried for Ben. He stood no chance against the Resistance if one so powerful as this was crippled by a single woman.

“What? Disappointed that it isn’t General Organa? That it’s someone so  _insignificant_?” You growled, and Kylo Ren  _flinched_.

“Don’t.” He implored, and there was something painful in his voice.

“Lose a little to save a lot, right?” You scoffed, “Didn’t you get the memo? The Resistance assumed I was a volatile mess after being-” your voice caught in your throat before you steeled yourself and steamrolled on, “ _abandoned_ by the boy I  _loved_ , so that’s what I became. And now? Now I’m here to  _personally_ kriff every one of you up until I find him.” Lips pulled back, it’s closer to a grimace than a smile, baring your bloodied teeth at the intruder. He considers your words for a moment before leaning down, taking off his helmet with a hiss of air. You brace yourself, suddenly nervous to face the creature beneath this helmet. However, instead, your world comes crashing down around you.

“Ben?” It breaks his heart to hear how sad and hopeful you are simultaneously. In that one moment he can see everything change, everything shift, and your face crumples in realisation. “Ben.” You  _really_ didn’t want to cry today, but evidently things were not going as you had planned them. “No.” Swallowing hard, you ducked your head to avoid his gaze.

“What?” He asked, evidently confused as tears dripped from your eyes, even as you squeezed them shut tightly, trying and failing to believe this was all a bad dream.

“I was happy just to die mad at you, to not make this messy and complicated.” Breathing rough, you slowly lifted your head. You didn’t want to look at him, but you couldn’t look away.

“How is this any less complicated?” He frowned, and it’s so completely  _Ben_ that it’s painful to hear.

“This wasn’t the plan!” You spluttered, eyes going wide. There’s a moment of silence, where neither of you is sure what to say or how to react, but all your thoughts and feelings come bubbling to the surface before you can stop yourself. “How could you leave me, Ben?” You’re all bitter words and ragged edges, months and years of anger hidden, pent up, left to boil until it was all too much. He’s silent. “Was it your idea? Is this what you want? If it’s not,” you let out a shaky, wet laugh, straining against your wrist bindings, “take me to whoever’s responsible, let me tear them limb from limb.” You spat, eager, far too eager.

“I…” He’s lost for words but you can’t lose this little bit of hope, not now.

“Please,” you interrupt him, eyes pleading, he looks away but you can tell he doesn’t want to, “I’ll do it, Ben, I’ll do it for you.” He looks wounded, and it was never your intention, but if it helps, you’d take it.

“It was… my decision.” He admitted finally, and your face fell. You swallowed thickly, schooling your expression into a neutral mask.

“Why?” Your voice is quiet and you drop your glassy gaze.

“For a perfect world, there must be order, there must be  _sacrifice_.” He growled, and suddenly, you could feel that tug in your heart, the one you always felt when Ben became passionate about something; it was the reason you came to the First Order, it was the reason you’d follow him across the galaxy if you had to. “The New Republic - _The Resistance_ \- doesn’t understand that.”

“You…” It took you a moment to align all the thoughts inside your head, to understand what he was saying, but you looked back at him, and it felt as if you were seeing eye to eye. “You truly believe this?” The nod he gave you was the first truly confident movement he had done since he  arrived.

“I hate the First Order,” you blurted, head dropping to your chest, exhausted to the point of being overwhelmed, “they- they’ve changed you, Ben. You know I’d do anything for you, but… I can’t be like them.” You inhaled sharply, the clarity of realisation washing over you. “I hate them, Ben, but I  _love_ you. Is this -  _are they_  - something you truly believe in?” Finally looking up, you could see the resolution in his eyes.

“Yes.” He uttered. It was almost grotesque how the relief flooded through you at his words, and you smirked, despite yourself, despite the situation.

“Then you have to kill me.” The calm way with which you spoke contrasted the bundle of raw nerves you had become, it was almost jarring to experience. Ben couldn’t hide his true feelings, not from you, and the fear he felt was so obvious that for a moment, all you could see was that terrified child held at gunpoint by a Kanjiklub grunt.

“[Y/N], I can’t do that.” He finally managed, his voice was low and level, his fear having crystallized into resolve.

“You can’t or you won’t?” You spat, pulling at your restraints with teeth bared. .

“I  _won’t_.” He hissed in return, eyes narrowing. “Be thankful I’m sparing you; now leave.” The straps that bound your arms were loose with a flick of his wrist, sending you sprawling to the ground.

“You are  _weak_ , Ben,” you glowered, crawling to your feet. Yourself weakened by your earlier torture, you hold an arm against your stomach, but there’s a fire in your eyes that mirrors his. So little had changed between you two, and yet everything was different, “just like Luke, just like  _your father_.” Shoving him hard, you’re surprised when he takes a step back, silent and seething with rage.  The moment is heavy with all the things you want to say, but can’t, and instead, you turn and head for the door. You can hear his lightsaber before you see it, but only by the briefest of moments. He gives you no warning, the blade of light scraping up your back, searing your skin and causing your knees to buckle.

“Why are you doing this?!” He roared, and you can  _hear_ how close he is to tears, and you hate yourself for putting him through this. Eyes trained on the floor, your voice is only just loud enough for him to hear.

“Love is  _weak_ , can’t you see?” The sharp breath you take in is shaky and you can feel your whole body screaming in protest. You turn to look at him, and there’s conflict in his eyes. “Learn from my mistakes, Ben.” Visibly flinched as you say his name, he instinctively brings his lightsaber down to slash down your arm. It too buckled from where it had been propping you up on the floor, and you found yourself flat on your face. So done with  _this_ , with  _everything_ you take a moment to simply sob on the floor, momentarily overwhelmed by pain. But the moment is brief, and then Ben’s offering his hand and you wondered when torture became so painful.

“I’m not going to kill you.” He insisted. Face contorting into a mask of rage, you bat away his hand and struggle to your knees, glowering up at him.

“Then I’ll do it myself.” Your voice was a snarl and you reached out for his lightsaber. With a click he had switched it off instinctively, to keep you from hurting yourself, unknowingly playing into your hands. You hauled yourself to your feet despite the pain that consumed your entire being, one hand braced on Ben’s shoulder, the other holding the now dormant lightsaber to your stomach.

“You  _know_ what you have to do,  _Ben_.” The weight of your actions had begun to come crashing down around you, and your only hope was that he couldn’t tell just how terrified you were. “You need to have the strength to do it.”

In that moment, you hate how expressive his face is, dark eyes shining with tears, lips trembling. In that moment, all he can see is the girl on Nal Hutta who risked her life for his, determination in her eyes as she declared that she loved him. In the next moment, he’s kissing you. It tastes of blood - your blood - and anguish, but somehow, despite the tears on your cheeks and your overwhelming pain, everything feels as it should.

“Join me,” His eyes are closed when you break apart, but he rests his forhead against yours like it physically hurts him to be so close to you, but he’s unwilling to let you go. “We could rule the galaxy together;” His gaze is imploring when he finally looks at you, “a king is defenseless without his queen.” His words startle a laugh from you and he looks hurt, leaning back and breaking the contact.

  
“This isn’t chess, Ben,” you give him bitter words and a sad smile, “and you still don’t seem to understand that I’m not doing this for you.” He analyses you for a moment, raising his hand to seemingly brush a loose strand of hair from by your temple. The uncomfortable feeling of having thoughts that weren’t yours pervades your mind and leaves you gasping for air, unsure of what had just happened.

“Please,” he whispered, as his hand left your face, so did the feeling, “don’t lie to me.” Your protest died in your throat, shock written all over your face; out of the two of you, you’d always been the better liar, he’d never been able to tell before. “You know I can take whatever I want.” He murmured, and it dawned on you; The Force. Understanding what had happened didn’t make you any less mad.

“But you won’t!” You taunted, throat already sore from crying; the screaming wasn’t helping anything. He was tensed, on the verge of movement, you could tell all he wanted was to remove the lightsaber and heal you, somehow.

“Why are you doing this?” He was crying and you couldn’t handle any of this right now, removing your hand from his chest like it burned. He held your arm tightly when you began to teeter on the spot, gripping the right where he had wounded you with the lightsaber, eliciting a groan of pain.

“If you have the strength to kill the things you love, nothing will be able to stop you.” You refused to let him look away, your words filled with nothing but cold determination. He takes a moment to consider, before his expression hardens and there’s the crack and buzz of the lightsaber flaring to life, piercing through your stomach with ease. “Wait, what?” You gasp. You looked so young, so helpless, and Ben found himself suddenly flooded with regret.

“I’m killing you.” Clearly shocked and horrified with himself, he can do little more than look at where you stand, impaled by the glowing weapon.

“B… Ben Solo killed me.” You murmured, but your eyes were refusing to focus and black spots were beginning to cloud your vision, “you must rise above him.” Blood began welling from your mouth, splattering against Kylo’s gloved hand where he held the lightsaber inside of you.

“I’m sorry.” But he didn’t sound sorry, his tone was bitter and it simultaneously broke your heart and eased your mind. His words were dripping with horror and shock, he was unable to speak, unable to think beyond his actions.

“D-d-don’t…” Shaking now, everything felt like white-hot pain, “don’t you  _dare_ pity me.” You managed, you knew what would happen if you moved while the lightsaber still flaring in your stomach, the fear of further pain being the only thing keeping you on your feet. “Tell me that it was worth it.” You whimpered, pressed your forehead to his chest, tears streaming down your cheeks. He doesn’t answer, but there’s still a lightsaber in your stomach and you think that that’s answer enough. The First Order should thank you. They won’t. You don’t matter to them, but Kylo’s commitment does. That’s OK. Lose a little to save a lot.

Kylo was frozen, lightsaber still in your stomach while you shook with silent tears. It  _hurts_ to see the relief flood your face when he turns it off, giving your the barest reprieve before you find yourself crashing to the ground.

He watches in mute horror as your head hits the ground with a sickening  _crack_.

With a whoosh, the door of the torture chamber opens and in walks Hux, cool and collected, assessing the situation with a raised eyebrow.

“Snoke  _will_ be pleased.” He mused, smirking at the scene before him, blood beginning to pool around your lifeless body as Kylo Ren glowered at him. “And now, what of ‘ _Ben Solo_ ’?” He asked, delicately, though his voice implied that whoever wore that name was better of in your place on the floor.

“Whatever was left of him died with her.”


	14. Suddenly Helpless {Kylo Ren}

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anon asked: Can you do a oneshot/imagine where someone very skilled tries to kill you in your sleep, but kylo ren saves you and tells you that he loves you? Thanks
> 
> Anon asked: Could we please have an imagine where Kylo Ren sees you, a respected stormtrooper, without mask for the first time and is amazed by your appearance?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tumblr: thelastimagine
> 
> A/N: IDK how I feel about the damsel in distress trope, but for the record, I think y’all kick butt, no matter who you are or what you do. Also, the ending’s cheesy but eh, it’s cute.
> 
> Warnings: Violence, talk of kidnapping and slavery. It doesn’t seem like it should go in the warning, but there is a super uncomfortable character that paralyses and tries to manipulate [Y/N].

“I’m here to submit my weapon for inspection, Captain!” A young -  _far too young_ \- Stormtrooper was all but bouncing on his heels, presenting his weapon for you to scan. It would be a tragedy for him to have a body count, you think, or you would if you weren’t completely desensitised to the concept of death, yourself. Being a Stormtrooper tends to do that.  His gaze held something akin to revere, as many of them did, or perhaps he was simply admiring your jet black armour, made as an homage to the Empire’s Blackhole Stormtroopers and now served as a symbol of your power.

You took the weapon without any preamble and logged it into the data terminal, analysing his statistics through cold, calculating eyes. “Satisfactory.” Your tone was clipped as you handed his weapon back, considering whether or not to berate him for his lack of helmet, however you had seen a few others nearby without helmets and guessed that his commanding officer was the one responsible.

“Is that good?” He asked. You had to fight your urge to sigh.

“It is  _satisfactory_.” You offered, but he didn’t seem deterred, much to your exasperation. Unfortunately you couldn’t send people to reconditioning simply because they got on your nerves.

“Could I be better?” he was getting far too close for comfort, leaning forward, eagerly. “If I wished to speak to you about improving when you’re not on duty, could I? Where would you be?” When his hand touches your armour-plated arm you lost any pretense of patience that you had so far been cultivating.

Through gritted teeth you managed, “My quarters are off limits.” You wrenched your arm from his grip, raising yourself to your full height in order to garner an air of authority. “All training is overseen by a supervisor; refer to them if you must.” Your words were a low hiss, but you felt no guilt when seeing the ashamed look that crossed his face. “Report back to your commanding officer, immediately.” You informed him. Thankfully, he seemed placated, trooping away with the most ridiculously straight-backed posture you had ever seen, trying his hardest to impress you, it seemed..

“It appears you have quite the admirer.” Voice cool and observant, Phasma wasted no words on greeting. The two of you were equals, in skill and authority, and had built a friendship upon mutual respect. “How long did it take you to break him?” Phasma’s tone easily conveyed her smirk and you rolled your eyes in kind. She gestures for you to follow her and you do without question; Phasma’s trust was hard won, but always mutual.

“Is that jealousy I hear?” Pace brisk in order to keep up with her, you can’t help a witty retort. “what happened to your legions of followers?”

“Training, I trust,” there was an air of confidence in her voice, a note of pride that wasn’t usually displayed, as the two of you walked through Starkiller Base’s halls, heading to the lower levels. There was something utterly terrifying about the way the two of you walked with such purpose, which sent Stormtroopers skittering to get out of your way, averting their gazes lest they be called upon for some unknown reason.

“It’s not a competition.” You chided, softly, but couldn’t help adding, “But if it were, my troops would win.” Phasma let out a huff that was as close to a laugh as she would ever get, and the rest of your trip was spent in comfortable silence. It was only upon reaching Supreme Leader Snoke’s conference room that you became intrigued enough to ask.

“Why have you brought me here?” Stopping outside of the door, you looked to Phasma, vaguely confused but also rather unsettled. Snoke had never sat right with you, and you weren’t certain why.

“Kylo Ren would like to speak with you.” It became abundantly clear, upon your first meeting with Phasma, that she often enjoyed being vague for her own amusement, and it was something that continued to infuriate you to this day. This was no different, and with no further information, she left.

No matter; you turned to the door, expecting it to open with a hiss, instead, you unceremoniously smacked face first into it. Grumbling under your breath, you crossed your arms, resting your forehead against it, trying to block out the muffled voice on the other side. If Kylo Ren had asked for you  _specifically,_  it was best not to disobey him, you knew from personal experience. You had known Phasma for years and Ren was no different; the two of you could even be considered whatever the equivalent of friends was in the First Order’s upper ranks. Friends, though you had always secretly considered it to be something more. He was kind to you, as kind as he could be that is; he took notice of you as you rose through the First Order’s ranks, and even though your attempts at friendly banter were met with silence in the beginning, those times were now few and far between.

You were yet to see his face, however, and he was yet to see yours; the downside of constantly wearing helmets, but that hadn’t damaged your relationship, if anything it had strengthened it. During the few times the topic had come up, you both took the opportunity to complain about the somewhat limited field of vision it granted you, but praised the impeccable hearing the helmets afforded you.

And now, as it so happened, it appeared that the voices on the other side of the door weren’t as muffled as you had previously thought, Snoke’s loud yelling jolting you out of your trance-like state and your drifting thoughts.

“Your foolishness proves to know no bounds! She is  _nothing_! A  _stormtrooper_!” Your heart was in your throat, hair of the back of your neck rising out of paranoia. You didn’t for a minute believe Snoke was referring to you, but you had always believed that it was a in good practice to be on alert around angry Sith. As his voice dropped to a dangerous purr, you found yourself pressed against the door in order to catch his words. “And yet, you feel…  _compassion_ towards her.” Snoke’s voice was slow and measured, his distaste for the emotion not subtle.

“You are wrong. I feel no more compassion for her than I do Hux.” It’s the desperation, the obvious lie in Ren’s tone that catches you off guard. Kylo Ren, infamous and terrifying Knight of Ren had feelings -  _compassion_ Snoke said, like it meant something more - for another, a Stormtrooper, no less. You wanted to hear more - hear  _who_. You tried ( _and failed_ ) to convince yourself it wasn’t out of jealousy, that you didn’t have anything to be jealous about, but you listened anyways and tried to ignore the little, green demons in the back of your mind.

“Do not contradict me, Ren, and do not pretend to lie. You haven’t the ability, I know.” There was a languid pause and you waited with baited breath, hanging on to Snoke’s every word. “We have… company.” Your heart rate quickened at the realisation that you had been caught, to which you frantically dropped to one knee, fully prepared to face Snoke’s wrath and potentially grovel for your life. Instead, to be greeted by Kylo Ren towering over you and an empty conference room was rather a shock, but not an unwelcome one.

“[Y/N].” He sounded different, somehow, almost pained, even through his vocal apparatus.

“You wished to see me, sir?” You asked, trying to keep your voice level, as if you hadn’t heard his conversation with Snoke, and he was quiet for a moment. Silent prayers run through your head at the thought of him going through your mind, and though you remained tense, his hands thankfully stayed by his sides.

“I did.” He conceded, voice quiet, before he took in a breath and cleared his throat pointedly, “But that has passed.” Your heart fell, glad for the mask on your face to hide your disappointment. He could barely look at you, his gaze drifting up and to the hallway behind you. “Go, rest. Hux would like you to conduct an evaluation for the FN squadron, tomorrow. Do not keep him waiting.” Almost forcibly calm in the way he spoke, it occured to you that his encounter with Snoke had affected him more than he let on, though your own poor timing certainly hadn’t aided the situation.

“Why could the General not give me this information himself?” Grasping at straws with your words, you rose to your feet. Ren meets your gaze again, but this time there’s something unsettling about it.

“Why waste his time when you’ve already wasted mine?” He responded, coldly. If he meant for his words to sting then it had worked, you flinched, taking a step back and straightening your posture, your own voice echoing his cool, neutral tone.

“I see.” Remaining calm and collected as you walked away was easier said than done, your shoulders wanting to slump and your head wishing to dip, but you refused, raising your chin and squaring your shoulders. Even so, Ren’s words haunted your thoughts upon returning to your quarters. Heeding his advice, you take the opportunity to rest. One of the few choice perks of gaining the rank of Captain is a your own private quarters, and while they were small, they were infinitely preferable to the overcrowded barracks that housed the other Stormtroopers.

It was nice, having somewhere to call your own, a place to hang your armour and take a breath without being disturbed, a bed that’s mattress is actually comfortable, walls that weren’t constantly under repair from accidents, or not-so-accidental-accidents, or Kylo Ren. Tossing and turning, you spent the next few hours at the mercy of the ship’s ambient noise and your own thoughts, Ren’s words being replayed over and over to the infuriatingly regular beat of someone’s footsteps in the hall just beyond your door. You just kept  _thinking_ , his scathing remarks and conversation with Snoke going back and forth in your mind, anger mixing uncomfortably with speculation until you felt ill. Your first and most logical thought was of Phasma, statuesque, a shining beacon within the First Order. Tall, impeccable and an incredible shot, she was easily admired and greatly feared; perfect for Kylo Ren.

What little sleep you managed was uneasy at best, mind saturated with worries and jealousy, though you tried to deny them. It was with a start that you awoke to the horrifying grin of a helmet-less Stormtrooper, looming over you while you were unable to move. Heart racing at the realisation that all your muscles were frozen, locked up, your eyes zeroed in on the syringe in his hands and you tried your best to scream, but no sound made its way past your closed lips.

“You know, there’s quite a price on your head.” To make matters worse, you recognised him. Your lips pulled back into a snarl involuntarily, a painful movement in your current state, but one that helped you gain some mobility, even if it was just your lips. It was the over enthusiastic admirer that Phasma had teased you about earlier. You couldn’t forget that grin, those wide, eager eyes; and now, here he was, fingernails grazing your throat as you worked to move your jaw, wiggling it, gaining a fraction of mobility. “It’d be a shame to sell it to someone who doesn’t appreciate it..” He sneered, before pulling out a comlink and swivelling on his heel. “Inform the Guavian Death Gang that I have the merchandise, and that the agreed upon amount will not suffice for what I’ve been through, you hear me?” He snarled into the comlink, and stuffed it back in his pocket..

“Who- are- you?” You managed, and he squatted down until you were eye level, dangerous glint in his eyes.

“I’m a bounty hunter, sweetheart, and you’ve made some very important people very mad.” His way of speaking to you, condescending and cruel all in one, was not nearly as unsettling as the needle still in his hands and the blaster on his hip.

“I wouldn’t classify the Guavian Death Gang as important.” You sneered, narrowing your eyes as if challenging him. If this man - this bounty hunter - was determined to take you out, you be damned if you went without a fight. He seemed undeterred.

“They’re just a middleman.” He assured you, before standing up, his tone suddenly nonchalant. “You’re harder to get to than I thought, what with your personal bodyguard Kylo Ren.” You frowned, momentarily forgetting your predicament as your thoughts drift to possible causes for Ren’s abnormal behaviour. “But he’s asleep, now; human like the rest of us, so it appears.” He smirked, knowingly, “Well, like some of us.” His skin shifts, the shape of his nose changes, and suddenly it’s seemingly a different person standing before you and his escape route became much clearer.

“Are you-  _monologuing_?” You asked, what could only be disgust in your voice, buying yourself as much time as you could manage, hoping for someone to check the security sensors and see that something was amiss. It worked, however, as the Stormtrooper capped the syringe and put it in his pocket, clapping his hands together, enthusiastic glint in his eyes.

“Of course! I’ve caught [Y/N]!” He seemed to be addressing no-one, his gaze drifting up, grin spreading so wide you rather hoped it would split his face. ”Fearsome Stormtrooper! Crack-shot Captain! Kylo Ren’s own, right-hand Stormtrooper!” He clapped his hand over his mouth, mischievous smile on his face, “Whoops, best not to wake the  _Prince of Melodrama_.” He stage whispered. A horrifying moment of solidarity passed between the two of you at his words and you were glad that it didn’t linger, the bounty hunter’s expression shifting until it became almost dreamy as he continued with his rant, “She’s frozen at my feet!  _Helpless_ …” His voice was a low purr and your breath caught in your throat.

“You want me to beg, don’t you?” You tried to keep up your menacing aura, but it was difficult. His gaze,  _hungry_ ,  _predatory_ , focused back on you.

“ _Nothing_ would give me more joy,” he murmured, there was a sick sort of sensuality in his tone, bile rising in your throat as he approached you, “I’m sure you of all people know how…  _satisfying_ it is to see fear turn to… well-” he snapped his fingers, smile wicked as he whipped his blaster from it’s holster, “ _nothing_.”

He’s dangerous, fast and cruel, these things you know, but he’s nothing,  _nothing_ , when faced with Kylo Ren’s lightsaber. You hadn’t even heard your door open, but the bounty hunter dropped to his knees, torso sliding from his hips and landing with a sickly thud in two halves upon your floor.

Kylo Ren, your apparent saviour, stood in your doorframe, breathing laboured as he glared at the corpse, as if daring it to move, to see how far it would get. Unsurprisingly, the corpse didn’t respond; blood had begun to pool around his head where it had landed against the metal floor, but it’s smile was still frozen on it’s face.

“Were you waiting to make an entrance?” Those… were not the words either of you were really expecting to hear, but it appears that you speak before you think and you don’t seem inclined to stop. “You really are the Prince of Melodrama.” With a scoff, you dragged your gaze from the dead boy on the floor to the terrifying, rage-filled eyes of Kylo Ren, though you were too overwhelmed to be really affected.

“A ‘ _thank you_ ’ would… suffice…” Its strange to hear his voice not being filtered through his mask, and now, as it trails off, you find yourself feeling exposed as his gaze roams your room, quickly spotting the telltale armour and blaster hanging against your closet. He’s… surprisingly pleasant to look at, you realise, this is the first time you’ve seen him without his helmet and he looks nothing like you expected. The vision built in your head was one of greying hair and battle scars, but here, seeing Kylo Ren before you in cotton pyjama pants and nothing else, he looks baby-faced, with big dark eyes and messy, soft hair. You could allowed yourself to take a moment to appreciate his shirtless physique before he took a step towards you.

“What are you doing here, Ren?” Voice soft and tired you could feel just how little you had slept, and how much your body was yearning for it. Snapping his lightsaber off, you could still see the scowl on his face as he searched the dead man’s pockets.

“Would you prefer that I hadn’t saved you?” It wasn’t quiet anger that was in his tone, but it was well on it’s way, and he kept his gaze focused on the corpse he was currently looting, so it seemed.

“No, I-” you spluttered at the accusation, but decided it best to simply drop your gaze and conceed your defeat, “ _thank you_.” Hoping that it was loud enough to hear as you didn’t wish to repeat yourself, you then began to work your neck against whatever the bounty hunter had injected you with. Staying focused on your task at hand rather than Kylo Ren meant you completely missed the awkward shuffle he did, trying and failing to ignore the kindness in your words. “You were the one patrolling?” It was more a statement then a question, and you simply followed your train of thought. “So that was you who kept me up half the night.” You mused. Ren cleared his throat, louder this time, stifling tension filling the room, your face heating up with the implications of your own words.

“I found it.” Kylo announced, your eyes flying open at his triumphant tone. With one hand he wrenched a small object from the pocket of the dead bounty hunter, with the other he used the Force to open your door and send the two halves of the corpse flying, promptly closing the door behind himself. With a smirk, he presented a vial for your inspection.

“Would you like a medal?” You snapped, tone edged with bitter, faux-sweetness as your mind was flooded with thoughts of today, of what Snoke had said and how Ren had treated you.

“It’s the antidote to the paralysis.” He seemed confused, which was understandable from his perspective, less so from your own, and you narrowed your rolled your eyes, awkwardly jerking your neck while the rest of your body remained frozen. “Oh.” As if realising his mistake, he crossed the room in two large strides to sit on your bed, beside you and unscrew the lid of the vial. Unusually hesitate, he turned to you, as if confused as to what he was meant to do. Ren licked his lips as you opened your mouth obediently, both of your refusing to acknowledge the pink tint to his cheeks. He tipped the whole bottle into your mouth quickly, your face scrunching up reflexively at the citrusy sting of the liquid, followed by a frosty feeling that swept quickly through your body.

Slowly but surely your muscles began to relax, but the release after constant tension felt wrong and uncomfortable, so before you knew what was happening, you had sat bolt upright, suddenly finding yourself in Kylo Ren’s personal space. He rested a hand on your shoulder to steady you and your gaze is locked on his. You can feel your heart rate quicken.

His eyes flick to your lips and you can’t help but quirk them into a smirk. “You… do not look like what I expected you to.” He murmured, what could be called wonder in his eyes as he took in your features.

“Better?” You asked, your growing smirk matching his now devilish smile.

“I would say so.” He mused. Everything felt  _right_ and  _good_ , but in that moment, there was one thought that made your skin crawl, a doubt that you couldn’t help, that wouldn’t go away.

“Why did Snoke call you foolish?” Voice so quiet it was barely more than a whisper, Kylo’s face dropped at your words, at the mere  _suggestion_ of Snoke. With hunched shoulders he dropped your gaze, ashamed in the knowledge that you heard Snoke berating him.

“I had feelings of…  _compassion_ for someone.” He admitted, he fiddles with nothing, taking any excuse not to look at you, out of sheer embarrassment.

“Compassion?” You asked, tentative, curious rather than mocking; a welcome change.

“ _Love_.”

“Oh.” Everything comes back in full force, your fear, doubts, insecurities, and it must have shown on your face. You find yourself filled with awkward, uncomfortable disappointment, from the bottom of your feet to the top of your ears, weak, consolidating thoughts racing through your head at the prospect of being passed over for Phasma. Ren makes a noise of surprise; your thoughts are so loud without you even meaning to that it takes him barely any effort to hear them. He’s  _concerned_. You can see it clearly when he goes to kiss you, and while you are confused, you won’t pass up the opportunity. Your lips touch his and you can hear his voice saying that it’s  _you_ , it’s always been  _you_. It’s all passion and intensity, hands moving to pull each other closer, frantic gasping breaths stolen between kisses. Heart hammering in your chest, you take a moment to pull away, gasping for breath.

“If- if you  _love_ me, why did you treat me like a waste of time?” The question was unexpected and the way Ren cringes is more genuine than you were used to seeing -  _all of tonight’s activities were_ more _; more genuine, more intense, more passionate_  - but the regret was clear and you smiled despite yourself.

“I was lead to believe that I was foolish, and I was; foolish to believe that Snoke would give me peace if I lied about my feelings, suppressed them.” His voice was low, contemplative rather than bitter, one of his hands still resting on the small of your back, securing you to this moment.

“It seems you had forgotten something.” You mused, and Kylo raising an intrigued eyebrow, smiling toying at the edges of his lips at the sound of your playful tone. “ _There is not peace, only passion_.” You quoted, and you could see his eyes light up, startling a laugh out of him. You like his laugh, it’s warm and surprisingly kind. “I do listen, on occasion.” You begin, but your words are lost as he starts kissing you once more, not that you’re complaining.


	15. I Could Belong To The Night {Kylo Ren}

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anon asked: OKay so how about one where u call out Kylo on his tantrums and don’t put up with his shit and he’s so stunned n confused that someone would stand up to him like that and it makes him love u a lil bit
> 
> Anon asked: Imagine being Kylo Rens healer and helping him after his episodes. Being his connection to the light side that he so desperately needs. <3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tumblr: thelastimagine
> 
> A/N: Any medical-sounding stuff comes from someone whose prone to accidentally injuring themselves, and also google. Post-TFA, massive spoilers. Also, sorry for leaving you guys hanging for so long.

Hux had to be the worst superior officer you had ever had, which was saying something, considering how long you had been a member of the First Order. You were a medical officer, though your skill and efficiency had earned you a place aboard the Finalizer, catering exclusively to the higher ranked officers. This often brought you in close proximity to Kylo Ren, feared Knight of Ren with a well documented history of destroying things with his lightsaber in what was often referred to, by your fellow Stormtroopers as ‘temper tantrums’, but never to his face. As fearsome as he tried to be, it seemed foolish of you to fear him after constantly having to bandage his wounds when he accidentally injured himself with his lightsaber during one of these ‘moments’.

“Go fetch Ren.” It was an order, one that you weren’t likely to refuse given the way Hux was glaring at you through cold, narrowed eyes.

“Yes, Sir.” Your jaw was clenched as you spoke, not looking at the General, a rigid air of formality in your tone, “And where would he be?” You asked, and Hux hummed, turning to his console, purposefully drawing out your interaction.

“Sector twelve.” He informed you after a beat, before a small, cruel smile appeared on his face. “Just follow the sounds of yelling and lightsabers, I suppose.” He had never really liked you, for some, unknown reason, however that suited you just fine, as you absolutely loathed him.

As much as you hated to admit it, it seemed Hux had a point; upon arriving in Sector Twelve, everything became eerily quiet, apart from the distant sounds of machinery being ripped apart and a muffled roar of anger, and yet, you chose to venture towards it. The sight of Stormtroopers scurrying away would have been funny if it wasn’t mildly terrifying.

Desipte your earlier cockiness, the sight of a furious Kylo Ren, lightsaber blazing in his grip, panting heavily as a console falls to pieces behind him, was truly a fearful thing to behold. It had only been a few hours since the destruction of Starkiller Base, and now you were a first-hand witness to it’s effects on the Sith.

“What do you want?” He snapped, but there was something pained about it. The way he moved, the way he stood, the way he spoke, he was in pain, unwilling to admit it, even to one so qualified as you.

“General Hux wishes to see you.” Your reply was wary, trying to assess him without seeming too obvious. His insecurities were his biggest flaw that lead to the shortest fuse. “I think it’s about what happened on-”

“So he sends a medical officer?” He cut you off, tone bitter, but he flinched as he spoke. You squared your shoulders, rising to your full height as you looked into the eye slits of his helmet.

“Take off your helmet, Ren.” Your voice was firm and he hesitated before he took a step towards you, obviously in pain. You refused to be intimidated.

“I would advise you not to tell me what to do.” He spat, taking another heavy step towards you. His groan of pain is audible, despite his best efforts, robes shifting to reveal burns and scrapes that deep beneath the fabric. You cocked your hip, raising an eyebrow at him and crossing your arms impatiently. “I will not be ordered around by a subordinate.” He cried, stalking closer until the two of you were inches apart, lightsaber still aglow in his grip. Mouth dry, you could feel every fibre of your being scream at you to run, to leave before you’re turned into bantha fodder.

“The constant guessing game over whether you’re going to kill me off before Hux runs out of menial tasks is wearing thin on my nerves. It stops now.” It appears that your mind and your mouth had two very different goals, as you inform him with an air of authority. He didn’t respond, you weren’t sure whether that was a good or bad sign. “Let me help you.” Your voice was softer now, though you still felt on edge, unsure as to whether he would simply ignore you, or worse, slash you to pieces. The room was bathed in silence as he powered down his lightsaber, lowering his head until the two of you were eye to eye. He’s giving you the chance to remove his helmet and your hands  _don’t shake_.

If looks could kill, in that moment you would be dead a thousand times over. His gaze held nothing but contempt and bitterness, filling you with a sense of uncertainty and desire to just turn and leave. You wouldn’t back down, not now. It occurs to you, after the initial shock of actually seeing his face, that the bitterness may not entirely be your fault. A large wound ran across his face, cheek to forehead. It was a wonder he still had both his eyes.

You had been aware that he had been part of an altercation that had taken place on Starkiller Base only minutes before it was destroyed, whispers passed from officer to officer about the girl from Jakku who was strong enough to overpower the great Kylo Ren. You had been doubtful, but hadn’t known the full extent; apparently he would have liked to have kept it like that.

“She really messed you up.” The words were out of your mouth before you could stop them; apparently you had completely forgotten who you were speaking to. “Why didn’t you think that this would need medical attention?” Anger flared bright in the Sith’s eyes, though it was too late, your instincts as a medical officer had taken over your mouth.

“You have no idea what I have gone through!” He roared, standing straight, but you just rolled your eyes, looking him over for any more signs of injury.

“Stop acting like a child, behaving as if everyone is against you, as if you haven’t raised an army around you,” you hissed, fingers already mindlessly working to unfasten his cloak. It fell to the ground in a heap and yet you kept talking, “you throw tantrums because you don’t get your way.” You methodically patted down his arms while he stood, shocked, “After you break three medical droids, they started sending in something more dispensable; me.” You huff, noting every place he winced, whether it was from your words or otherwise, you weren’t certain. Your gaze was fixed on the wreckage of the console behind him, not even aware that your hands had come to rest on his chest. “You destroy things simply because you feel inadequate, and yet you demand independence and to be taken seriously.” You pushed back firmly, your anger at his entitled attitude having taken over you. His face contorted into as mask of rage as he stumbled back, his arm rising as you did, lifted into the air by your throat and the Force.

“How dare you undermine me in such a way.” He snarled, Your nails scraped at the soft skin of your throat, searching for whatever it was that had to be constricting your windpipe, however you found nothing. “I did not ask for your assistance, I don’t know why you’re here.” His gaze was hard and cold, your own air of arrogance barely dropping.

“Asking for help isn’t weak,” you managed. You struggled to gasp in air, legs kicking out uselessly, “you couldn’t kill me, even if you wanted to.” It wasn’t smug, it wasn’t meant to be cruel, it was simply a fact. The grip on your throat got tighter. “If you kill me, you doom yourself.” You choked out, triumphant as you feel his grip beginning to slacken. “No other medical personnel will come near you, will they? Hux sends me because I don’t go running whenever you approach. And I know-” you gasped out, tears in your eyes, “I know you’re hurt.” His hand drops and so are you, sent sprawling across the cold metal floor, gasping for air.

“I can take the life of another,” he hissed, standing above you, dangerous glint in his eye that makes you shiver, “and use it to heal myself.” You scrambled to your knees, his voice low and dangerous as he lords over you, your hands rubbing your neck.

You squinted up at him, skeptical. “Then what’s stopping you?” He’s silent for a long moment, furious at the fact that you called his bluff. Showing how smug you felt would probably be a bad idea, but you couldn’t help yourself, nonetheless. “What use is the dark side if you can’t even save yourself?” Before he could complain, you collected the medical kit mounted to the wall and headed to the door. “Come with me, I need to clean that.” You gestured to his injury and he made a face at the idea, but it turned into a wince of pain.

The silence between you two remained until you made it to the nearest bathroom, and ordered him to sit on the counter by the sink. “Where are the others?” You asked, and his gaze dropped to his torso. There’s the telltale singeing and snagging of fabric that one would expect from a battle, but it had to go if you were to make a full evaluation. “Take it off.”

“Why?” Confusion was not what you thought would come from this, but today had been full of surprises.

“I need access to all of your wounds.” You responded, clinically. He frowned, but begrudgingly removed his shirt. This was  _definitely_ not how you thought today would go. Still, you wondered how long it had been since someone had seen him like this, if anyone had ever seen him like this. Kylo Ren, beneath all of the bravado and mystery was just a  _guy_ ; he was  _human._

Even so, no-one would blame you for being vaguely overwhelmed at the sight of the Sith Lord sitting on a bathroom counter before you, and if you were overwhelmed, it was because he was sporting a fair few injuries.The worst of the wounds was the easiest to identify; a large, circular wound on his lower abdomen. There were a few smaller ones on his shoulders, but they would get by with little fuss. “Straighten up.” A moments, you ducked your head to search the medical kit, pulling gauze, cream and bandages, which you handed to him one at a time to hold. He didn’t complain, which was rather surprising, but not unwelcome, and you began to clean the wound with disinfectant. “Lightsaber?” You asked, seeing the way the wound was cauterised.

“Blaster.” All of a sudden he sounded very far away, as if his mind was flooded with a million things he’d rather not be thinking about. Part of you wanted to hear the story behind the injury, but he avoided your gaze as you looked up to him. You made a hum of impatience, but let it slide, packing the wound with gauze.

“Keep applying pressure while I find a bandage.” The gauze at his slide was slowly turning red beneath your fingertips despite your best efforts, but he followed your instructions, keeping it in place. You fiddled with the bandages for only a moment before placing one over the wound and beginning to strap it down securely. The injuries on his shoulder were less aggravated, thankfully, and you began to clean and dress the wounds, Kylo Ren all the while looking like he’d rather be anywhere else. You could feel the tension rising, something on the tip of his tongue that if he uttered it, he rather feared you would yell at him again.

“Why are you like this?” He finally snapped, his voice a bitter growl. Heartbeat racing at his sudden volume, you waited a moment to calm yourself, before looking up at him, silent and confused. “Why are you so  _good_?” He elaborated, face twisted with what could only be disgust at the very notion. It took you a moment to think, before responding dismissively.

“I’m not  _good_ I’m just  _nice_.”

Despite his scoff, he seemed to accept it. With a flourish, you put the final bandage on his shoulder and smiled proudly at your work. Kylo seemed less enthused. Letting out a slow breath, he tried not to wince as he sat back against the mirror, his legs dangling over the edge of the counter, toes barely grazing the floor. He really was a giant.

Clambering up onto the basin beside him, straddling his thighs to have the best possible access to his face wound. If he seemed taken aback by it, it didn’t show. Instead, his eyes were trained on yours, something about them seemed soft, almost awestruck as he watched how focused and intent you were, face barely inches apart. With a huff of impatience, you climb onto the basin beside him.

“What?” You murmur, gently dabbing the wound with disinfectant, trying to seem as though you were fully focused on your task, except for where you were hyper aware of your proximity.

“Nothing.” The wall was the only place he could look that wasn’t you, not that it helped.

“Don’t be coy.” You scolded lightly, playful smile on your lips. “It doesn’t suit you.” A blushing Kylo Ren was less funny when it aggravates his newly-cleaned cheek wound. You wiped the excess blood away, your own cheeks pink at your forwardness, ducking to hide your blush and disguise it as a need for medical supplies.

“You’re not afraid of me.” Contemplative was not the direction you thought this would take, but you had been surprised before.

“No.” You concede, answering his rhetorical question, to which he looks more annoyed than anything else. “Would you like me better if I was?” You’re shooting for nonchalant, eyes focused on the cut where you’re applying cream and prepping some butterfly bandages, but part of you is anxious to hear his answer.

“No.” It takes him a moment to realise that he had answered far too quickly for someone so allegedly removed, his face turning an entertaining shade of pink. You let out a breath you didn’t know you had been holding, smirking slightly as you tap him on the nose, annoyed.

“Stop that.” You murmur, reaching blindly for a antiseptic wipe. He hands you one, confused and still rather embarrassed.

“Stop what?”

“Blushing.” Smirking, you finally lock eyes with him, only to see him look away quickly. Going back to tending the wound, you make an amused noise in the back of your throat.

“I-I wasn’t-” He spluttered, face turning even redder. You chuckle, but it dissolves into silence, that quickly turns to tension, and you feel as though you’re about to suffocate from it all.

Clearing your throat loudly, the two of you avoid one another’s gaze, delicately applying cream to his cut. Despite his look of mild discomfort, you don’t make any move to leave his personal space any time soon.

“I’m not  _good_ ,” Fingers ghosting over his face, voice only loud enough so that he could hear it, it was a strangely intimate moment, “but I’m helpful, and helpful people… the best I can hope for is that I don’t get killed…” You mumbled, and there’s a moment where he’s looking at you as if he wants to say something, to comfort you; you’re not sure you could handle that after everything. You cupped his jaw instead, tilting his head towards the light to get a clearer view of his wound. His scowl is deep, but he doesn’t seem inclined to complain, so you take your time, applying butterfly tape.

“Why do you keep doing this?” It’s not a question you were expecting, and you feel yourself freeze. Part of you wonders if it’s a Jedi Mind Trick of sorts, or if he’s trying to find out what makes you tick, but after years being by his side, he’s got more than enough to destroy you if he chose to. It takes a few minutes of packing away the medical kit to realise that he’s waiting for an answer and you’re still all but sitting on him. He’s so close you can count the freckles on his nose - you didn’t even know he had freckles on his nose. “I don’t help people.” Despite the coldness of his voice, there was a hint of longing, of loneliness in his words. Your face falls, not because you pity him, but because he doesn’t pity himself. He’s genuinely curious, waiting for your response.

It’s hard to resist the impulse, pressing a kiss to his cheek just above where it will scar. You don’t wait for a reaction, climbing down, you sweep the medical kit into your arms and head to the door as briskly as possible. He doesn’t wince. His face doesn’t change. Kylo Ren doesn’t help people.

“But I think you could.”


	16. Empty {Poe Dameron}

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anon asked: Hi! Well, I’m a hoe for Poe, so- I’m wondering if you could do something with a mix of drama and fluff. Maybe the reader is upset with him for getting captured and blowing himself up, but reluctant to admit all those feelings? Keep it sassy! Thanks!!
> 
> Anon asked: Please write a Poe imagine! (Maybe something where you see him alive for the first time after the mission like Finn?)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tumblr: thelastimagine
> 
> A/N: Honestly, this could be about half as long and still fill the prompts, but where’s the fun in that? Spoilers, beware.

General Organa had been hunched over one of the consoles in the War Room; the fact that she didn’t even look up when you entered could hardly be a good sign. With a heavy sigh she looked to you, speaking three words that stopped you in your tracks.

“Dameron’s been captured.” Frozen, you’re not certain of what to say or how to react as General Organa tries to give you further details. Her voice is a low hum in the back of your mind, something about the First Order that you can’t really make sense of right now. Overcoming your instinct to make a sarcastic remark or roll your eyes was easier said then done, but there was a time and a place for all things, and now wasn’t it. A sick joke like this wasn’t the General’s style; Poe really had been captured.

Shock. Shock was the first real emotion to register. Shock, then a gut-wrenching sense of loss, followed by a haze of confusion. Slowly thawing out, your eyes refocused on the woman before you, looking at you with pity in her eyes.

“Wh-” Blinking a few times to try and bring yourself back into the moment, you took a shuddering breath in to continue, “why did you ask to see  _me_ , General?” It wasn’t difficult to tell that your calm demeanour was fading fast, heart rate climbing, the tell-tale burn of tears in your eyes. But General Organa could see you were trying -  _maker, how you were trying_ \- and straightened to her full height, looking you in the eye, trying to remain calm but compassionate as she chose her next words carefully.

“I was aware that you and Dameron were close-” the knowing tone of her voice was enough to make you splutter to defend yourself, though you weren’t sure why. You and Poe  _were_ close, best friends even, but with the incessent gossiping of your teammates, the way they all suggested that there was something more when there  _definitely_ wasn’t. The General raised one eyebrow, crossing her arms impatiently and you took that as your queue to stop talking, your mouth snapping shut, feeling vaguely ashamed. “And it is for that reason we would like you to retrieve his BB unit.” 

An image of the little orange and white droid flashed into your mind, thought seemed that your mouth worked faster as you babbled out, “but surely if BB-8 is still operational then Poe-” Leia placed a hand on yours, you hadn’t even realised you were waving it around until she did, and despite the gesture, her tone was formal. You hadn’t expected anything less.

“C3P0 informed me that BB-8 has still been reporting consistently from Jakku; they’re the reason we known about Dameron’s current state.” Heart sinking with every word, she continued. “We have reason to believe that he stored important information on the droid. I am trusting you to find and secure it.” She promptly dismissed you after you nodded in confirmation.

Everything self cold, so very cold; you couldn’t bring yourself to believe her, not fully. Since the two of you had joined the Resistance, you and Poe had been inseparable, you’d trained together, fought together, flew together. You were there then he first met General Organa with stars in his eyes. There was no-one you knew quite so well as Poe, and to have him just  _gone_? It all felt very surreal.

You punched into the coordinates to Jakku as if you didn’t already know the route by heart, each movement agonisingly slow, despite the feelings of your brain being swamped in fog. Your droid beeped impatiently at you as you turned off your comlink, letting it sit dormant in your pocket. What was even the point of it? The only people who used your frequency with any sort of consistency were General Organa and Poe.

It’s second nature at this point, out-manoeuvring TIE-Fighters. It’s not surprise that you feel upon seeing them, its the dull sense of inevitability. What little TIE-Fighters there are seem to be distracted with one of their own, possibly a defect, you consider. Good for them. Preferring to steer clear of the whole scene, you’re over the horizon before seeing the defect’s fate. Despite this, you caught yourself circling Jakku for a third time and by now the TIE-Fighters have seemingly eased off, something you think you would have been thankful for if you had been paying attention.

Landing was rough, much rougher than usual, nothing but sand and sky for miles. Head in your hands, you try to come to grips with the situation, whether you’re there for a moment or an hour, you’re not certain, but somehow you feel as though your cockpit is a safe space. You still feel hollow.

Beeping angrily, your droid reminds you to pick up your comlink before leaving, whirring something about the General that doesn’t exactly translate.

“ _We have reports that Dameron has escaped on a stolen TIE-Fighter and is headed back towards Jakku!”_ It’s C3P0′s voice that crackles through the comlink and you stop for a minute to listen. He’s repeating it on a loop, as if waiting for a confirmation from you. What confirmation you can give is weak, stomach lurching at the now very obvious plumes of smoke rising from beyond the nearest sand dune.

The TIE-Fighter wasn’t a defector, it was Poe. It’s not a comforting thought at the sight of the smoke. Somehow, you know it’s his, and now you can see it as you stand on top the dune, a burning wreckage, with no sign of Poe and no sign of BB-8. Someone approaches it, someone you’ve never seen, pulling Poe’s jacket from the wreckage before the whole ship sinks, along with your whole heart. You yell at them, scream obscenities, threats you could never follow through on, but they run, terrified, still clutching the jacket.

_Bloody scavenger_.

There’s a Teedo and his luggabeast scouring your ship for loose parts, but simply aiming your blaster at him causes the two of them to go shrieking into the desert. It takes you several moments after climbing back into your cockpit for you to align all of your thoughts.

“Have you received any updates as to BB-8′s whereabouts?” You squeezed your eyes closed as you began your comlink transmission, warring within yourself as to whether you should report what you had seen. You could barely process this reality, the fact that you had seen Poe’s crashed TIE-Fighter sink into the desert with him still aboard.

“ _No, I’m afraid their tracking device is non-operational as of late, I believe Mr Dameron made an upgrade and forgot to inform us_.” It’s C3P0 jabbering on again, and you decide to keep quiet about your discovery, to complete your mission and deliver the news in person.

You scour the planet for the little droid, barely sleeping over the next few days, finding yourself weaving in and out of back alley information dealings, doing nothing more than searching for BB-8 and hoping for a transmission from the Resistance. Every time you thought you had been closer to an answer, a location, a name, the First Order troops begin to swarm the city and it’s all you can do to stay out of their way and get back to your X-Wing. Sometimes you follow the Stormtroopers, hoping to find a lead, to try and remain one step ahead of them, but it proves to be useless; they know as little as you do. Poe was on a highly classified mission, if he was taken by the Order, they’re probably looking for the same thing as you. 

Dusk on the second day brought you the transmission you had hoped to recieve. It’s garbled, but you’re also standing in the lifeless shell of an AT-AT.

“ _BB-8,”_ It’s difficult to make out the General’s words as you head to the exit. It’s mostly strings of static. “ _Maz…. Takodana…. Return….. Secure…..”_ In a flash you’re outside, but the transmission has gone dead.

“What?! What’s happening?! General, please!” You yelled, heart thundering in your chest, trying to connect the words and coming up blank. The silence that followed was possibly the most tense of your life, but eventually you recieve a response.

“ _There has been a report from Takodana that BB-8 is secure and on it’s way back to us right now. You are advised to return to Base at once_.” You had never been so glad to hear C3P0′s cold, clipped tone. Despite the way your chest eased at the news, you couldn’t help but be overwhelmed by a sense of disappointment. After everything you had endured, you hoped some small success would come in the form of your mission, but no, it appears someone has scavenged that, too.

The flight back to the Resistance base was spent ruminating in silence, your droid giving a beep of solidarity when you informed them of what had happened. With shaking hands you removed your pilot uniform, head swarming with thoughts and feelings that all seemed to sing the same tune.  _Poe. Poe. Poe_. He was gone. He was  _gone_. There was a void in your heart where your best friend would be, sucking away all the trust you had given him, all the- all the love that you felt towards him. You felt as if you had no-one. You felt empty.

Your quarters became your sanctuary until nightfall, prefering to spend your time alone with your thoughts, glassy-eyed gaze fixed on the ceiling in the peace of your own room, away from prying eyes and gossiping pilots. You emerged only at the behest of General Organa, who had called you into the War Room. There, standing with Han Solo and the General, was the Scavenger from Jakku, the one who had stolen Poe’s jacket. And now he was  _wearing_ it. 

It took him only a moment to recognise you, but you could see the fear in his eyes when it clicked. It was too late anyway. “Who the hell do you think you are?!” You roared as you lunged at him, not giving him time to react to both as you yanked him by the collar of his black shirt, avoiding the jacket as best you could.

“Finn?” He asked, terrified and unsure. 

“Finn?” You snarled the name with disgust, “Do usually steal from dead guys,  _Finn_?” You snapped, he spluttered for an answer, but couldn’t articulate one, avoiding your gaze and looking to Han for help. Han simply shrugged, looking vaguely amused.

“[Y/N], let go of him.” It was the General’s quiet but firm voice that had you shoving Finn away, knuckles clenched tightly by your sides. You could feel the beginnings of a tear in your eye but you refused to give anyone the satisfaction of seeing you cry, wiping it away bitterly.

“He’s wearing Poe’s jacket.” You spat, gaze fixed on the flood. Finn made a noise of protest and you looked up to glare at him as Han told him to keep quiet.

“That’s not important right now.” The General said, herself glaring at Han, before her gaze turned to you. It was as if she was issuing you a challenge, whether or not you could let this go. You tilted your chin up, meeting her gaze and resolutely  _not_ looking at Finn.

Both Finn and Han were dismissed, allowing yourself and the General to modify the plan of attack on Starkiller Base. The basic outline had been laid by another pilot, but you didn’t bother to ask who. You were grateful for the task, if only to keep your mind off of things. As the conversation began to lull, the General offered you a day of rest, which you refused. If there was something to be done, you wanted to be a part of it, you  _needed_ to be a part of it. She dismissed you, that look of pity in her eyes tinted with something knowing, but it was gone before you could complain and she was muttering about how she’d bring in another officer to look it the plan and relay the final details.

The last thing you wanted to do was to look at your X-Wing, or any of them for that matter, but you new you couldn’t just stop, just give up, so you went about your work as best as you could, refuelling and checking for missing wires or fuses, anything the Teedo might have escaped with.

Out of the corner of your eye you catch a familiar movement, something you thought you had lost. You  _froze_.  _It had to be a ghost_ , you thought, but no, there, in broad daylight, lazy grin on his face as he chatted to Finn, was Poe.

“Poe?” You mutter his name, disbelieving, little flares of excitement and relief going off in your heart, that empty hole that he had left when you thought he was gone. He turned, and it’s so him that it hurts a little bit to see his face so happy, so excited, just to hear your voice when you’ve been trying not to look like the wreck you were. 

It takes Finn only a moment to look between to two of you, to see the excitement and  _love_ that you clearly share, to see how happy your very presence made Poe, and suddenly, your reaction made sense to him. In that moment you felt bad, Finn had known that Poe was alive. You hadn’t. A little voice in the back of your mind bitterly wondered why the General didn’t even care to inform you, but you shoved it away. The weight of your survival that had been haunting you over the past few days, the emotions, the loneliness, the  _fear_ , it all came crashing down around you. But there he stood, waiting with open arms, and all you could do was run to him.

“Miss me?” His voice is warm and familiar in your ear, and you can hear a hint of laughter in his words, though he’s hugging you tight. You want nothing more to be relieved, to just stay in this one moment forever, to forget everything that had happened and stay lie this. Your world had been in freefall, but suddenly you had landed, and somehow you felt as if everything was going to be OK.

“You… you…” It took a moment for you to decide on your thoughts, voice unsure before you shoved him away, punching him in the shoulder. “You  _asshole_!” You cried. With a cry, Poe stumbled back, rubbing his sore shoulder, confused. “Don’t  _ever_ do that to me again!” Face flushed, you avoided his gaze, knowing smirk on his lips as he thought over what you were saying.“I swear, if you’re ever captured again, I’m going to come up there and kick Kylo Ren’s ass  _myself_.” You growled, so lost in your own anger and pent-up denial that you didn’t realise that he had wrapped his arms around you until you were hugging him back. Your voice died in your throat and you could feel tears in your eyes. “I missed you.” You admitted, voice barely more than a whisper.

“I’m sorry.” He murmured, and you knew it was the closest you would get to him saying ‘ _I missed you too_ ’. You wiped the tears from your eyes and he kissed your forehead softly, the two of you breaking apart, but only by a few inches.

“You dying would have sucked.” You huffed, and his warm chuckle brought a smile to your face.

“I’ll keep that in mind for next time” He snickered, the mere suggestion of ‘next time’ causing you to visibly tense up, and he quickly added, “Glad to know you care.” Despite the fact that the two of you had let go of one another, and the blush that lit your cheeks, the two of you barely strayed more than a foot from one another. 

There was such comfort in the way you returned so effortlessly to the banter you had always shared.You paid no attention to the knowing smirks of your fellow pilots; maybe they were right in thinking that there was more between you and Poe. Maybe it had always been there, maybe all it took to realise was the thought of never seeing him again. 

Neither of you feel the need to say ‘I love you’, but even a blind man could see there was something more. It’s there in the way he smiles at you, looking at you as if you had the power to put stars in the sky. It’s there in the way he promises he’s going to return as if in a universe of constant chaos and change, you were his anchor. It’s there in the way he listens to you, like he would fly to the Unknown Reigns and beyond just to hear you speak.

You both know it, but for now, it’s enough to be side by side against the world. With Poe, you don’t feel empty.


	17. Stand and Fight {Anakin Skywalker}

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anon asked: hi! can you write an imagine where the reader and anakin don’t like each other and in the middle of a really heated fight and then they kiss? you can end it however you’d like

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tumblr: thelastimagine
> 
> A/N: I feel like I wrote the reader with some Sith leanings, but also the dark side is fun and we’re only human. Post-Phantom Menace, Pre-Revenge of the Sith. Also, vaguely NSFW towards the end I guess??? Nothing explicit.

You don’t know what it is, but there’s something incredibly therapeutic about beating your enemy to a pulp. You’d decided that Anakin’s face taped to a punching bag would have to suffice as he was never around due to your highly conflicting schedules, however when you did get the chance to ‘ _reunite_ ’ as it were, you couldn’t deny the sense of satisfaction that came with being able to punch him in person.

Perhaps ‘ _punching_ ’ wasn’t the correct term, it was more like ‘ _highly skilled martial arts involving lightsabers_ ’, but it’s the murderous intent that counts.

Well, not exactly  _murderous_ , you were training to be a Jedi after all, though your word-choices hadn’t been the best of late, but it wasn’t your fault. Anakin’s very presence seemed to put you on edge, aggravate you; you simply didn’t have the patience to be witty.

Mace Windu and Obi-Wan Kenobi had been called urgently to attend a Jedi matter on Coruscant, however they seemed to enjoy spectating yourself and Anakin as the two of you sparred together, all bitter words and quick insults, the Jedi Masters simply suggesting tactics that seemed to fall on deaf ears. Anakin’s grin was smug as he easily parried your blows, it was a grin you had grown to loathe - or as close to loathe as a Jedi could safely get. That being said, neither Obi-Wan nor Windu were particularly interested in filing a report as to why their padawan was sliced in half during a training exercise, and as such, you had only been allowed to use the Youngling’s training sabres.

The two of you had always been at odds, both convinced that the other was overconfident and snide, blind to your own flaws. Differences aside, there were no two so well matched in both skill and stubbornness; to admit defeat was unthinkable, which of course lead to the pair of you duelling well past what was necessary, bordering of self destructive at times, despite the weak training sabres, there was something to be said for the way you traded witty quips with the frequency of physical blows, often with just as much impact.

“Alright, that’s enough.” Like a switch had been hit, you feel yourself stand to attention at Master Windu’s words, bringing you out of your fighting trance and side stepping Anakin to make your way over to your teacher.

“Really?” You could hear Anakin behind you, exasperated. “You’re just going to give up like that?” There was something akin to laughter in his voice and you almost took his bait. Almost. It was a test. It was always a test with him. Dormant lightsaber in your hand, you turned to face him, meeting his challenging smirk with one of your own. You knew Master Windu wouldn’t stop you, he had made it abundantly clear that he would rather you learn from your mistakes than try to prevent the inevitable. All that remained was your decision.

_Fight or flight?_

“I suppose I’m just the better padawan.” You responded, loftily.

_Flight._

Windu indulges your childish behaviour with an eyeroll as the two of you leave, the sounds of Anakin’s complaining following behind you until he’s shut down by an exasperated Obi-Wan. You’re somewhat grateful that it was your first and only meeting during this brief interlude upon Coruscant. Master Windu’s meeting was adjourned that night and you found yourself aboard his shuttle the following morning, headed to one of the Outer Rim planets… You think that you should really be paying more attention, and Windu seems to agree as he tells you the exact same thing when you finally ask him.

Weeks pass before you find yourself back in the training room with Anakin; a Jedi Council meeting saw both Master Windu and Obi-Wan return with yourself and Anakin in tow, so to find him alone in the training room in the early hours of the morning is surprising, but not out of the realm of possibility. You don’t exchange pleasantries as much as it is a snide comment and it’s not long before you’re swept up by a sense of deja vu, facing off in the training room.

Sparring wasn’t high on your priorities during your free time, however any opportunity to mildly injure Anakin was an opportunity you wouldn’t pass up. Despite the fact that you had the upper hand consistently for the past hour, Anakin didn’t seem particularly bothered. While his blaise nature often frustrated you, right now it didn’t even seem to matter. The  _real_ problem was Anakin’s constant running commentary. He jumped sporadically from one topic to the next, not giving thought to his actual words, but what he lacked in consistency, he frustratingly made up for in coherency, chatting smugly, knowing full well it distracted you.

“You see, the way to differentiate Podracers is-” His air of superiority was well deserved in this area, but it didn’t stop you from being annoyed.

“You  _know_ that doesn’t have any relevance!” Punctuating your annoyed cry with a swipe from your sabre, you manage to catch his shoulder and the he stumbles back, the two of you breathing heavily from the exertions. “Do you  _ever_ shut up?” You groaned, exasperated.

“Not usually.” He smirked, he was  _teasing_ you. Of course he was.  _Asshole_.

“Well maybe if you did, you could actually  _win_.” You sniped back, tone faux-sweet, before opening your mouth once more to get in a further insult. There was a foreign thrill that came with the way Anakin regarded you with a wary stare. You were sick of always being the one to back down from these confrontations. “Chosen one, my ass. You couldn’t hit the wide end of a luggabeast if your life depended on it.” His face twisted into something bitter and you allowed yourself a silent victory. It felt almost scandalous going against the Jedi Code in such a manner, purposefully angering a fellow Jedi, but sometimes you just  _had_ to antagonise Anakin. He deserved it. Probably.

Even with training lightsabers, the ensuing battle was one of the most fraught of your life, dodging and ducking and weaving; the training lightsabers did little more than sting, but now, being hit with something that resembled consistency, it made finding your rhythm all the more difficult.

 In that moment, you were both beings of pure intensity and determination, no banter, no distractions, and you could see, for once, just how gifted he really was. His movements were far more graceful than you would have expected, and his use of the the Force was subtle, unnoticeable to the untrained eye, but you knew he was using it to manipulate your actions to keep you off balance, keep you guessing.

It’s with a jolt that you find yourself pressed against the training room wall, Anakin’s metal arm pressing into your collarbone and throat. It’s not enough to choke you, but it is enough to hurt when you try to squirm away..

“ _Do not_ ,” his voice was dangerously calm, level as he spoke, “ _underestimate me_.” His blue eyes stared into yours and for a moment you could have sworn they flashed gold, but you weren’t sure why. His usual flippant nature so sharply contrasted this sudden commanding aura that it left you squirming in discomfort. The thing that cause you the most discomfort was how much you enjoyed this side of him, and how very far from the Jedi’s usual code of conduct it was.

He was waiting for a response while you allowed your gaze roam across his face, taking in emotion, this persona he seemed to have adapted to so quickly. Impatient, in a word, and you thought it was an emotion he wore well. Or rather, you liked that you were the one who made him impatient. Frustrated. There was something more there, a need that he seemed to be unable to express. Another challenge. All that remained was your decision.

_Fight or flight?_

The smile on your face as you loosen your grip on your sabre was almost predatory.

_Fight._

It’s so not the reaction he was expecting that it causes him to loosen his grip on you in surprise. He can feel you smile into the kiss. It’s rough, desperate, as if you’re trying to claw your way to victory through the kiss alone. He considers letting you. He wondered if it would be worth it, to concede defeat right there and then. He finds he can’t do it, that he doesn’t want to. He doesn’t want to stop kissing you and he wonders if this is what it was all leading up to, if all of your fighting had really been worth it. He doesn’t care. All that matters now is this -is your lips on his -is  _you_.

To live in this moment is better than to be brought out of it, especially not by something so little as your training sabres falling to the floor, hands pulling each other closer, as close as you dared. 

“Don’t even think about it.” He mutters. He knows you’re thinking of biting him lip hard enough to draw blood, just to show that you can. He’s offered another challenge, doens’t he know? Hasn’t he realised that you’re not backing out, not tonight. You bite anyway, but not enough to bleed.


	18. That Would Be Enough {Kylo Ren}

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anon asked: Kylo Ren one shot where during one of the many battles he’s involved in you get killed in the skirmish? Then he’s super angsty about it/blaming himself?
> 
> Anon asked: could you do an imagine where you find Kylo really attractive but he’s a higher rank and you never really speak but one day you have to do something for him and he reads your mind && finds out please?? thanksss

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tumblr: thelastimagine
> 
> A/N: Talk angsty fanfics to me. :) *sad trumpet solo*
> 
> Warnings: Death, Violence, Blood, Burns, Sadness.

Your recent excursions with the First Order’s raid team were few and far between; it had been a year since your promotion to recruit training on Starkiller Base, taking you out of the line of fire. However, Captain Phasma had made a point of asking you to join herself and the raid team for their next mission, which of course, impressed all of your pupils. You couldn’t very well say no.

Despite the short notice, you couldn’t help but feel the excited thrum of anticipation running through you as you found yourself suiting up with the rest of your squadron. This wasn’t your first time in the field, in actual fact, you were rather prolific at the height of you raid days, which, of course, left your uniform, as it hung currently, a little worse for ware. You were a weapons specialist of the Flametrooper variety, charged with the destruction of evacuated homes, your efficiency and skill earning you both praise and promotion, which is how you found yourself training the next round of Flametroopers.

Stepping into the silence of the changing rooms was like coming home, the scent of heavy duty cleaning chemicals hit you first, however the underlying scent of charred hair and incinerator fuel could never really be erased. Your guessed one of the petty officers got wind your arrival, judging by the careful way your old uniform hung, pristine in your old locker. You pulled the body suit on with practiced ease. Beneath your helmet, a smile involuntarily tugged at your lips at the familiar weight of the D-93 Incinerator Tank on your back. Upon exiting, you could clearly see the Shuttle that would take yourself and your team to your destination, preparing to depart.

It took you far longer than you would like to admit to realise that your squadron was not the only one upon this mission. The team was made up of two squadrons, Captain Phasma and Kylo Ren himself. Even as your squad waited anxiously for the crew to refuel the shuttle you could hear the whispers of ‘ _Jedi_ _Killer_ ’ that would haunt the Sith like a cloud of impending doom. Stomach twisting uncomfortably at their words, you chose not to weigh in on the subject, staying quiet as you always did when this topic came to light due to the fact that you had always been very taken with the man, unlike the rest of your squadron.

Whether or not you could be considered ‘ _friends_ ’ was up for debate, however seeing as you weren’t certain if Sith were even capable of having friends, the point seemed moot. The two of you had never really spoken two words to each other outside of commands in battle but you were among the highest ranked in the on-call squad for over a year, meaning that it was rather often that yourself and Kylo fought alongside one another. He was the one, according to Phasma, who kept requesting you as the team’s weapon specialist whenever they required a Flametrooper. While the information certainly seemed odd, you simply put it down to you being good at your job, which you undoubtedly were.

Denial would have also been an acceptable reason; it had never occurred to you that Kylo Ren simply wanted to spend time with you; he was a great and powerful force wielder. You were just… you. So perhaps you were more than just taken with him. You could never admit the feelings of adoration that prung within you every time you so much as heard his name; there was no-one else like him and it drew you to him, like a moth to a flame, undeniably attracted to him in some inexplicable way. As much as he was shrouded in mystery and rumours, as high as his death toll was, despite the imminent danger that seemed to be looming over you, you just wanted to be with him, wanted to around him. It was a secret you were never willing to admit.

Unfortunately, these thoughts continued to plague you even as the man himself approached the shuttle. You tried clearing  your mind, scrubbing away the thoughts in the face of the cold fact that he would never like you like that. Jedi mind tricks or not, you didn’t want to seem obvious. For where you sat, you tried to make yourself smaller, to avoid his gaze and not draw attention to yourself. This did not work; he seemed to seek you out like a homing missile, briefly checking your ID number once you had been spotted before he pulled you aside quietly.

“[Y/N],” he began slowly, but you knew better than to interrupt him, “I was not aware that you would be joining us today.” He mused. There was something unidentifiable in his voice and had to force yourself not to look for a deeper meaning in his words, promptly dismissing them.

“I’m here at the request of Captain Phasma, sir.” You informed. He was quiet for a long moment, and you worried that you had misspoke. He had killed better men for less words. As your heart thundered in your chest, you wondered if it was loud enough for him to hear. You hoped not.

“Are you aware of the mission?” He asked, tone forcibly clipped.

“Yes, sir.” Your own voice was forcibly calm, words even and measured as you spoke them.

“And the dangers it possesses?” You could help but read into his words more than you should; it was unlike him to worry about this sort of thing, but your voice remained cold and professional, trying to match his tone.

“Yes, sir. I have been over the mission brief.” Nodding, you could feel hope fluttering in your heart, you never thought that he would pay attention to you, let alone be  _concerned_.

“Was anything unclear?” His hand was on your shoulder, tips of his fingers brushing against your bodysuit. The moment was so surreal and the only thing that appear unclear was him.

“No… sir.” Your voice was very quiet, almost too quiet, but he heard. His hand dropped from your shoulder and the moment was broken. He straightened up - you hadn’t even noticed he’d been slouching - lifting his head to presumably look at the rest of the member of the accompanying squadrons.

“If that changes, talk to your supervisor.” He sounded so cold it almost stung, but that didn’t change your confusion at his words.

“Sir, I believe  _you_  are my supervisor.” You murmured, trying to keep the hurt out of your tone. The air still seemed to grow thick with tension, but nonetheless, Kylo answered after a beat, his tone radiating annoyance.

“Yes, as the weapons specialist, your team will turn to you,” he didn’t even seem to be talking to you, rather trying to simply reason with it out loud, work through his own thoughts aloud, “it seems certain protocols have been…  _altered_  for this mission due to…” He trailed off, turning and making his way over to where Captain Phasma was watching the exchange, leaving you bemused. You remained quiet and reserved when returning to the shuttle, mentioning something about protocols when asked about the exchange. You weren’t sure why you were lying, there just seemed to have been some underlying meaning in your exchange, something not even you could grasp. You thought you may have been reading too much into it.

Phasma’s stance told Kylo that she was braced for whatever rage he brought to her, which definitely wasn’t a good sign. This wasn’t helped by Hux’s muttered ‘ _smooth_ ’ as he passed, as if Kylo was broadcasting his feelings to everyone in the surrounding area. He spared a moment to consider if he could do that, if he had discovered a new Force power of sorts, but quickly dismissed it, focusing on Capatin Phasma.

“What are you  _doing_?” He hissed to the shiny, silver trooper. How she managed to convey a sigh of impatience without so much as moving a muscle was beyond him.

“I believe you were wanting to spend more time with her,” she attempted to reason with the somewhat irate Sith, though his reaction left much to be desired, “I thought this would be-”

“You  _thought_?” He snapped, drawing the attention of some passing Stormtroopers heading to the shuttle. Phasma waved them away, turning back to Kylo, who was seething with rage. “A battlefield isn’t exactly ideal.” He tried to simultaneously whisper and yell. It didn’t work.

“Sir, one of our Flametroopers was killed recently, [Y/N] was a logical candidate. Take this as what it is; an opportunity, but do not let it distract you.” She replied coolly, turning on her heel and heading towards the shuttle. Kylo followed, somewhat dejected, not that it was easy to tell. His normal bravado was similar to that of a bitter slump at the best of times, so rather than detract from his menacing presence, the aura of resentment that he was building towards Phasma’s plan only added to his demeanour.

The thing is, he knew you, knew you were taken from your home as a child and raised within the grey confides of the First Order’s base. He’d never even tried reading your mind, just because he never considered the fact that you could, let alone would want to, develop strong feelings, least of all about him.

“Just talk to her,” Hux muttered, barely audible, this time carrying a clipboard as he passed, as if it was his life’s goal to simply to interject snide, unwanted commentary into Kylo’s life. “ _sir_.” The General mocked, visibly rolling his eyes. Kylo briefly considered Force-Choking him, but thought better of it, knowing that Supreme Leader Snoke would not approve.  

The shuttle doors closed with a hiss once he was inside. Your gaze automatically snapped to the source of the noise, only to find Kylo Ren looking right back at you. You could feel your face flush as you looked away quickly. The crew and commanders, usually at least buzzing with nervous energy, were almost radiating fear in the face of Kylo Ren’s riled up state, thus securing the trip in uninterrupted silence. The co-pilot made the mistake of casting his angry glare over to Phasma, but a simple nudge of her rifle sent him skittering back to work.

Phasma summoned both you and the other squad’s weapons specialist, a Riot Control Trooper, along with Kylo Ren in order to brief you all on the specifications of planet and the strategy you had to relay to your team. Despite the Sith’s reknown, he was just as reserved as you, making it abundantly clear that Phasma was the commanding officer in this situation.

Your team took your directions on board with ease, shuffling and adjusting guns with what could have been described as excitement, but was most probably nervous energy. Citizens of the town you were raiding were dragged from their homes, easily overwhelmed by the First Order troops. Lightsaber ablaze, Kylo Ren roared demands at the people, behaving just as a Sith and face of the First Order should, as if feeding on the fear that was rolling off the citizens like waves.

It became abundantly clear within a matter of minutes that the citizens knew nothing, something which Kylo met with a cold gaze and the order of extermination. That was when all Hell broke loose. The citizens were armed, much to your surprise, and were quickly beginning to shoot and overwhelm your squad. One by one, Stormtroopers began to fall, you turned to your only available option, doing what you had only done a few sparing times in battle; you turned your incinerator on the people.

Despite the fire’s range, only a few citizens were injured, the rest scattering about, running into stray laser bolts or into Kylo Ren’s lightsaber. What mattered was that your people were alive, and thus you set about destroying their homes, one by one, focused on the thatched roofs and thankful for their thin walls, the structures crumbling as if they were made of cards.

With only one structure remaining, seemingly a small hermit’s cottage on the outskirts of town, you set about doing final checks on the city. A sense of relief passed through you, safe in the knowledge that you only had the one structure left, a fact for which you were glad; there were more houses than you had anticipated and you were running dangerously low on fuel.

From behind, you could hear the panicked shout of one of your subordinates, to which you turned to look. This turned out to be the wrong move. A stray villager had shot at you twice before he was cut in two by Kylo’s lightsaber; the first burying itself in your stomach, the second missing you and instead piercing through the incinerator fuel tank, sending what little fuel you had left up in flames, along with your entire back and the back of your head and neck.

You couldn’t feel it at first, shocking having frozen you solid, but it took only moments for you to thaw, numbness giving way to white hot pain, forcing your knees to buckle and you hit the ground hard. Somewhere in the back of your mind, you realised that the cottage ahead could have water or ice or anything cool to relieve you of this agony, but it was slow going, dragging yourself along, blood dripping from the wound in your stomach, painting the dirt beneath you red.

Armour fell, chestplate and helmet lying, discarded on the ground, no longer being supported by the back panels. But before you had time to register this, you were subjected to the intensely agonising experience of having someone lift you bridal style, despite the burns on your back, to carry you to the structure ahead. You were thankful that they made short work of it, moving faster than you believed a Stormtrooper could, before placing you on your stomach on the first flat surface available. You gathered that it was a kitchen of sorts, and it was fast filling with Stormtroopers.

“Someone get the medical officer from the shuttle!” Kylo Ren wasn’t usually so panicked, you managed to register, and through your hazy, pain-fogged mind, you managed a smile at the thought. Surely Kylo Ren wasn’t worried about you, he had far better things to do, you thought, but it was nice for a moment. Soon, cool liquid was being poured over your aching back, and you arched up, aggravating the wound considerably as a scream was ripped from your throat. A a few pairs of hands quickly reached out to hold you down, their firm grip remaining even as the process was repeated and your screams grew louder. Eventually, the medical officer seemed satisfied that the burn was flushed, and your screams had  turned to hoarse, whimpered sobs. “Get out! Give her some space.” There was Kylo’s voice again and the room suddenly seemed very empty. Some type of salve was being smeared on your searing back in copious amounts, soothing the raging fire that seemed to still be blazing across your back, however the wound in your stomach showed no signs of relenting.

“Stay with me, [Y/N].” Your eyes fluttered open, a semi-aware smile on your face hoping for the owner of the voice to meet your expectations, and yet, prepared to be disappointed as your gaze searched blearily for the face who was grounding you here. Unexpectedly, brown eyes looked back, eyes you feel as if you’ve known your whole life, and you feel your heart soar.

“ _Oh_ ,” your voice is raspy and your breathing is laboured, but your heart beats faster than you knew it could. It’s painful, but you manage to reach out one, gloved hand to stroke his cheek. “ _it’s you_.” There’s something in his eyes, like it  _hurts_  to look at you.

“You’re not  _allowed_  to die.” He demanded, jaw clenched tightly. That simple phrase, that one statement, and suddenly it’s all  _real_. You could feel every inch of skin that had burned away, the way the wound in your stomach pulsed and bled; if they didn’t know about that wound by now, surely they would know soon enough.

“I can’t… I can’t promise that.” You whispered, face crumpling into a distraught mask. After several shuddering breaths, you closed your eyes, hand moving to secure a grip on the back of Kylo’s neck. “Can you keep me here?” You tried to be calm, to be cool despite the circumstances, but it you could almost feel yourself coming apart at the seams. Your eyes opened slowly and you tried your hardest to focus on him and only him, not the pain, not the past, nothing but  _him_.

For the briefest of moments, you spared a thought to whether you would be able to feel a Jedi in your head. As it turns out you can’t, but you didn’t need to feel it to know. Kylo’s face was the picture of tragedy, recognition turning to bitterness his eyes shon with tears that hadn’t been there just a few seconds ago. You couldn’t help the sad, watery smile as you ran your thumb across his jawline. “You might believe that I don’t have a lot to think about. but I think an awful lot about you.”

The medical officer cut in, breaking both the moment and your own concentration. “She’s losing a lot of blood, I don’t know-”

“Her stomach.” Kylo offered, voice level, eyes still locked on yours. “You’re going to make it.” He murmured.

“Not if I don’t tend to that wound.” The medical officer spat, forcing you to drop your hand, the Sith using the Force in order to lift you up while the medical officer lay towels on the bloodied table, laying you on your back so the laser wound could be examined. Blood soaked the entire front of your body suit, still completely intact apart from the clear, neat laser hole in the stomach. She cut it away as best she could, trying to examine the wound with what little supplies she had, Kylo unable to look at you, fists balled by his sides, turned away from the scene before him. You don’t know which hurts more.

“I should- I should- I should’ve said something.” You sobbed, each one aggravating your wound. You were so full of fear and regret over your missed opportunities that you weren’t going to throw away this one. “Please, Sir-”

“Don’t.” Kylo muttered, turning back to you, kneeling down beside you, reaching out to run a hand through your hair. The medical officer’s fussing had stopped abruptly and the two of your turned to slowly see what the holdup was. Fearful expression on her face, the medical officer looked from the wound to Kylo Ren.

“I’m sorry.” She whispered, pleading. “There’s nothing I can do for her-” You watched as Kylo Force-Choked the life out of her, too tired and desensitised to be even remotely horrified. Determination etched into all of the lines on his face, he turned back to you, the corpse of the officer lying on the floor.

“I can save you.” He sounded resolute, which could only mean one thing. Being in a squadron with him for over a year meant you left with a considerable amount of knowledge about the Sith Regime and it’s rise to power; you knew of the promise Darth Sidious had made Darth Vader to lure him into the dark side.

“Sir, I’m not-” Everything was going fuzzy around the edges.

“I  _can_  save you.” He muttered, jaw clenched tighter as he tried and failed, again and again, to find the strength within himself.

“But am I worth it?” You asked, with a small, sad smile. “I’m just a Flametrooper. You’re Kylo Ren.” Tears were freely falling down your cheeks by now and black spots began appearing in your vision.

“You weren’t even meant to be here. This is my fault. If I just- I just-” He sounded so distraught, so broken, something catching in his throat. “I can-” You reached out, resting a hand on his, he looked to you, somehow seeming smaller, like a lost child.

“Would it make it easier if I told you I didn’t want to be saved?” You asked.

 

You could see in his eyes the moment his heart broke in two.

 

“What?” You didn’t know Sith could love like he loved you.

“Being… being with you. This is the best thing I could have hope for.” You squeezed his hand, but it was limp, as if he was in shock. “Please. Go.” You let out a sigh, aggregating your wound which elicited a wince. “My troops are waiting for you.” You tapped his hand weakly to signal that he should leave. Smile still on your face despite the fact that you were barely breathing, Kylo Ren left, almost shocked, fear and anger all brewing within him. He always wanted this sort of emotion, the dark side fed off that emotion, but not… not like this.

A scream was ripped from his very being as soon as he exited the cottage, fear, grief and rage all flooding him, bursting from his veins and out into the world with every last ounce of strength he had. He could feel it, could feel the tears running down his cheeks, the way the Force had flowed through him in that moment; he’d only read about the Force Scream, he knew what it was, but he never thought he was capable of it. He had always known it was powerful and terrible, and yet, this…  _This_  was so much worse. It felt as though his soul had been ripped from his body.

A moment of silence followed his scream, as if the universe was simply waiting to react. He was not disappointed. Stormtroopers gathered by the shuttle, hundreds of metres away were all knocked to the ground. He knew this would happen, knew the effects of the Force Scream, and so he turned, hearing the crack of wood, watching in horror as the house he had just left, the house he had left  _you_  in,  _collapsed_.


	19. Of Drinks And Confessions {Rey}

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anon asked: Can I have a Rey imagine (I’m a girl) where she kisses me and admits she likes me?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tumblr: thelastimagine
> 
> A/N: I absolutely loved this prompt. Beware, spoilers ahead.

Rey was the first one to greet you when you arrived back at the Resistance base, her voice barely louder than the roar of another squadron of X-Wings as they prepared for takeoff. “[Y/N]!” A smile lit up your face as you turned abruptly, facing the young Jedi. 

“Rey!” You pulled her in for a hug, still wearing your bright orange uniform, exhilarated after returning from your reconnaissance mission. When the two of you pulled away, holding each other at arms length, as if to inspect one another, Rey’s cheek were flushed, but you didn’t feel the need to comment on it. You and Rey had always gotten along extraordinarily well, she was smart and resilient, not to mention beautiful, even when she was just coming back from training, tired, but still somehow glowing with enthusiasm. “How has your training been?” You caught yourself before falling too far into your thoughts, smiling at her as she grinned back.

“It’s been going well.” Her voice and her body were at odds, while she sounded enthusiastic, she looked rather stiff and tense. She didn’t offer anything more and the conversation ground to a halt, she seemed to want to say more, but she was holding back. Having not seen her in a while, you wanted to keep the tone light and friendly, but when you opened your mouth to ask another question, a loud voice interrupted you.

“[Y/N], we’re reporting to the General, then getting drinks, you coming?” Unsurprisingly, it’s Poe. You turned, letting go of Rey to shout back a confirmation. Upon turning back, she looks rather disappointed, not by you, but almost as if she had expected more of herself. You could feel your heart sink; you didn’t like seeing Rey disappointed.

“You’re welcome to come along.” You told her, and she must have heard the underlying ‘ _please, I want you to_ ’, because the next thing you know, she’s nodding, sheepish smile on her face. After the two of you part ways, you run to catch up with Poe, who looked pointedly at where you and Rey were just conversing, and wiggling his eyebrows. The noise of surprise he makes when you punch him in the arm is worth him knowing your feelings about Rey. 

Your thoughts were focused elsewhere during the debriefing, mostly on Rey, and how good it was to see her again. Training with Luke Skywalker had taken her to one of the other Outer Rim planets for the past few months, further than you would have liked; you couldn’t lie, you had missed her. Sure, you had kept in contact, through comlinks and the holonet, but it was never as good as seeing her, being near her, especially since she had left so soon after the destruction of Starkiller Base. Being with her again was like breathing fresh air after months of nothing but smog. If you were being honest with yourself, you would have to say that you had begun to develop feelings for her, romantic feelings. Which, of course, posed a problem. You had ample time during your missions, hours at a time spent in space, with only yourself to talk this through with. There were two things that made you stop, every time you wanted to bring it up with her; Rey was stunning and wonderful and a Jedi, there was no way she would go for you, a lowly X-Wing pilot, and the other was the Jedi Code, which from what the General had told you, when your curiosity got the better of you, forbade romantic relationships. Despite all of the warning signs, you couldn’t help but love her.

Your squadron had flooded the Cantina, mingling with friends and regulars, all babbling about their latest success. The less crowded end of the bar was where you chose to take your seat, mulling over what drink to order, of the two they offered, and scanning the crowd for Rey. Out of nowhere, Poe clapped you on the back, making you jump about a foot in the air, much to his amusement as he ordered a mug of lum for both of you.

“Good flying out there, rookie.” He grinned, and ruffled your hair. You smiled back at him, nudging him as he took a seat beside you.

“Not so bad yourself, but you seemed a little slow.” You smirked. Poe rolled his eyes, chuckling good-naturedly, before he seemed to zero-in on something across the room, expression turning from something playful to something more amused and knowing. “What is it?” You asked, frown upon your face. He nodded in the direction of the object that had him fixated and you followed his line of sight.

“Rey’s over there. You should go talk to her.” He mused, thanking the bartender who placed the two drinks before you. He nudged you with his elbow, as if urging you to go, and leaving his bar stool to join the rest of the squadron at the other end of the bar. Grabbing your own drink you followed suit, hopping off of the bar stool to make your way over to Rey. The corner she had chosen was dimly lit, a single light shining in from the window onto a tiny table, but there she was absent-mindedly swilling her drink while trying to look like she wasn’t looking for you. Upon seeing you, however, her face lit up.

Your latest mission had turned from a simple reconnaissance mission into a fight against the first order, one you recounted with glee, conversation flowing smoothly between you, much easier that it had earlier this afternoon.

“I swear, there was like,” your arms waved about as you animatedly recounted the story, grin on your face as you relived the exhilarating events, “three Tie-Fighters on my tail, but luckily Jessika was close enough to hit two of them, and the third I just-” 

“Can I kiss you?” Rey asked, idly, interrupting your spiel. You were about to mime the photon torpedos as they blew up the enemy ship, but her words caused you to come to a halt. You blinked a few times, trying to process what she had just said, uncertain of how to react, before settling on a confused squeak. “Alright, I don’t usually do this,” she admitted, choosing to look at her drink in favour of looking at you. “I like you, [Y/N], I’ve liked you for a long time, you’re incredible and brave, you’re kind and lovely.” She took in a deep breath, finally meeting your gaze, her eyes filled with a fiery determination. “What I’m trying to say, is that I think I love you.” She was so serious and resolute about it, and yet you could feel yourself grinning as she asked, once more, “Please, can I kiss you?” Nodding empathetically, you pulled her in for a kiss across the tiny table. Everything about that moment felt right. Rey had turned an entertaining shade of pink by the time you two had separated, obviously pleased.

“What about the Jedi Code?” You asked suddenly, one of your qualms having been erased still left the other. Rey’s brow furrowed and she hummed, considering.

“There’s not a lot of Jedi’s left,” she mused, small smirk on her lips, “it’s not as if they’re going to hunt me down. And besides,” she grinned, “this has sort of been a long time coming for me, I’ve spoken to Master Skywalker about it and he doesn’t see any problems.” You breathed a sigh of relief and saw Rey chuckle, her eyes crinkling in that cute way they do when she laughs.

“Good,” you smirked, reaching across the table to cup her jaw, your thumb brushing along cheekbone, “because I want to kiss you a lot.” It seems you were both in total agreement on this subject.


	20. Say Something {Kylo Ren}

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anon asked: Ello lovey Can you do a kylo ren one where you knew him before he turned into kylo ren? And you two end up fighting with lightsabers, and your trying to change him back? Thanks so much darling. ;)
> 
> Anon asked: Imagine Kylo Ren being unable to hurt you

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tumblr: thelastimagine
> 
> A/N: Massive spoilers. Watch out! A lot of people requested Kylo Ren imagines. I’m working on them! Thank you so much guys.

You concentrated all of your energy, focusing on the task ahead of you, lightsaber in your hands that you were desperately trying to steady. Focusing was the difficult part; you had learned to tune out the sounds of the Cantina upstairs to keep it from distracting you, however your mind was full of memories and moments that you couldn’t help but dwell upon. Maz’s castle was a sanctuary and a home to you ever since your best friend had joined the dark side, with as much violence as that entails, and your mentor had all but disappeared, blaming himself for Ben’s betrayal. Even after all these years, you worked as hard as you were able, keeping your Jedi skills sharp in spite of the circumstances. Once Ben had joined Supreme Leader Snoke and the First Order, a group working to eradicate all the remaining Jedi, in order to fulfil his grandfather’s legacy, you turned to Maz, and she was compliant as long as you agreed to only practice in secret, and help to keep the Cantina and the Castle functioning. 

There was a tension in the air today that made centring yourself difficult, so it came as a relief when your comlink began to beep, signalling an incoming transmission. It was difficult to hear through the background noise of the Cantina, but you were used to it, enough so that you could make out her words. “ _There’s someone here I think you should meet. Please come upstairs.”_

“I’ll just be a moment.” You responded, grateful for the reprieve. You stuffed both the comlink and the lightsaber into your satchel, wrapping them in a cloak to make the lightsaber in particular, less obvious. Someone was standing at the end of the hall as you exited your training area. This was unusual for a number of reasons, but what made it particularly peculiar was the fact that the treasury was ajar. The girl who looked to be in her late teens, she her presence felt so familiar that it  _hurt,_ and she was accompanied by a small droid, a BB unit, that whistled at you as they passed. You froze as she approached you, and there was something about her, not through the way she walked, or how she looked, or how she held herself, it was just ingrained in her very being.  _The Force._

Your old mentor’s lightsaber sat, untouched in it’s wooden box in the middle of the treasury, you knew that was why she was here, but you think it still would have been polite to ask. However, the creaking of the treasury door snapped you out of your shocked state, and the two figures had already entered. Taking a moment to evaluate the situation, you let it pass. Maz was in the Cantina, that much you knew, and whilst looking for her, you managed to not only find her, but to come face to face with someone you thought you would never see again.

“Han Solo.” With a voice barely more than a whisper, you were somewhere between stunned and overwhelmed at the sudden development, an emotion Han was clearly also experiencing.

“[Y/N]?” He asked, quietly, as if he could barely believe it. “You’re alive?” Swallowing thickly, memories rushed through you mind; months spent as Skywalker’s padawan, alongside Ben, training and duelling, the Skywalker-Solo family offering to take you in after your family’s destruction at the hands of the First Order. “I thought-” He couldn’t even get the words out of his mouth before you winced, easily following his train of thought.

“ _I’m_   _alive_.” You confirmed, cutting him off with a wave. As if by the flick of a switch, the only thought in your head was that of his son, killing his fellow padawans while you hid, terrified, barely escaping with your life.

For once there is peace; Maz has gone to talk to the girl downstairs, whom Han refuses to talk about, you don’t hug him, because after everything, it seems too relaxed, but when you shake his hand, there’s something familiar about it, and the world seems a little brighter. However, you do get a hug from Chewbacca, after greeting him enthusiastically. He’s happy to see you, giving what can only be a snide snide remark about his new crew mates if what Han says is true.

The girl from earlier runs through the Cantina, looking as if she had seen a ghost, followed by her droid and Maz, who doesn’t suggest following her, but Han looks as though he wants to. There is time to catch up, and you do so with ease, intrigued by Han’s goings on in the world of the Resistance and smuggling. He offers to take you to D’Quar, if only to see Leia, though you are quite interested in joining the Resistance. Maz had been urging you to join for a while, to use your powers for good, and you had been seriously considering it, but you had been looking for some kind of sign, it appeared that this was it. 

The tension rose almost tangibly in the Cantina, like the patrons were all waiting with baited breath before the peace was broken. The roar of a landing shuttle made your little group look to the door, tense, on edge. Shuttles landed all the time at the castle, but there was something different about this particular shuttle. You know this one. This is the shuttle that came to kill the padawans.

“We have to go.” You told Han and Chewbacca, standing abruptly. “Where is your ship?” Maz looked on with sad eyes, knowing that the two of you would be parting ways for now. She petted you on the shoulder, knowing that nothing would change your mind.

“Not far, let’s go.” Han and Chewbacca raced out as you hugged Maz goodbye. They grabbed a man as they went who introduced himself as Finn while the three of you were running to the Millennium Falcon. Both of you were rather confused about the other, but you didn’t question it.

All of a sudden, you skidded to a halt, the other three running ahead. “Why are you stopping?” Finn asked, incredulous, causing the others to stop and watch you. You were uncertain of that yourself, but you could see Stormtroopers exiting the shuttle, knowing full well that you didn’t want to stick around to meet them. But there was something that  _made_ you stop.

“Keep going,” you urged the others, huffing out a breath with your brow furrowed as you tried to work up a reasonable excuse, “I’m going to… to find the girl.” You finally managed.

“Who? Which girl?” He cried, and you could see Han’s frown deepen.

“She means Rey,” he informed Finn, whose eyes went wide in realisation. “Now come on, kid, let [Y/N] do what she has to.” He growled, tugging Finn along. 

Only when they were safely at the Falcon did you turn once more, to see a sight that made your heart stop. A Sith Lord exited the shuttle, clad head to toe in black, face adorned with a shiny mask. He seemed unnervingly familiar, or perhaps, you considered, it was just that sort of day. Everything felt familiar, maybe he was just a stranger.

Somehow you knew that he was after the girl - _Rey_  - and you had to find her. The forest was the first place you would look, though it would take you quite a bit of time, it had an abundance of space and hiding spots. Sprinting through the trees, your heart raced as you tried to track her, but your pursuit grew slower and slower as the forest became more populated with Stormtroopers. Something was  _wrong_ , you considered once you were at a standstill, surrounded by Stormtroopers that were yet to notice you. Something was  _very wrong_. Approaching from the forest in front of you feel what seemed like a cloud of hatred and fear.

As though frozen with fearful anticipation you wait, knowing that a being with this aura could easily find you, there was no point in hiding. He was taller than you had anticipated, but it did nothing to deter you, hand reaching slowly into your satchel, gripping your lightsaber firmly.

The Sith’s lightsaber buzzed to life, humming angrily in his grip, as if trying to intimidate you. “Where is the girl and the droid?” He demanded. His voice was somehow distorted, most probably from the mask, but there was something about that voice… You  _knew_ that voice.

“ _Ben_?” Your own voice was soft, but you knew he could hear you.

You’d never seen a Sith hesitate before.

 

“Where are they?” He tried to sound authoritative, but your presence shook him, having unknowingly survived for years. He raised his lightsaber, ready to attack and you held up one hand in a gesture of peace, while the other was still in your satchel, holding your own lightsaber, ready to be drawn at a moment’s notice.

“I don’t know.” You answered, level, trying to placate him. It didn’t work. He went to strike you, but you were quicker, ducking and weaving behind, pulling out your own lightsaber and letting it buzz to life. “ _Ben_.” Your voice was louder now, the sound of his name angering him. He swiped faster, leaving you little time to parry. “It’s me. It’s [Y/N].” You told him, trying to get him to acknowledge you. He had grown so much, and yet, so little. Each of his attacks was prefaced with a beat of hesitancy, allowing you to dodge out of the way with ease. None of his strikes landed, the two of you duelling like you had as padawans. In that moment, it was as if nothing had changed, a sense of longing and nostalgia sweeping through you, leaving you smiling at the familiarity of it all.

“I’ve missed you.” The words slipped out of your mouth before you had time to think about them. He froze. A reaction. Finally. You would try anything to get him to listen once more. “We  _all_ miss you.” He remained silent, simply going in for another hit. It was as if he didn’t want to remember, or perhaps it was the lure of the dark side. Either way, you had lost your best friend, and you felt entitled to an explanation.

Something was wrong; whenever he had a clear shot at you he would never take it, going for a different strike that you could easily block. You were on the verge of tears now, stumbling back to for another swing. You dodged his blow and brought your fist up to knock the mask from his face.

It was still him. Same dark eyes, same dark hair, but everything seemed so cold, so distant. His gaze cut through you. “Don’t pretend you don’t know me!” You cried, tears now falling down your cheeks. That seemed to startle a reaction out of him. For the smallest moment you could see the hesitation on his face, the longing he had to reach out and touch you, to prove to himself that you were real. “What happened? Why did you leave me?” You asked. The moment was gone and he lunged. You held up your blade to block, the two lightsabers crashed together sparking against one another as yourself and Ben worked to hold up against one another.

“Why can’t you just-” you looked into his eyes, searching for something,  _anything,_ a remnant of who he used to be. He held your gaze, as if he was looking for something too “Please, come back.” You whimpered. “For me.” The glowing, red blade of his lightsaber hummed dangerously close to your face, and it was taking all of your strength to hold your own. “Please don’t do this.” There’s a moment of recognition and his face twists into a mask of rage, throwing you back and narrowly missing you with his lightsaber. The two of you twirl and parry with increasing ferociousness until, with one mighty blow he strikes the saber from your grip, sending it flying to the forest. Unarmed, you watch the blade as it soars, only to be kicked to the ground, his lightsaber at your throat.

“You’re not meant… to be alive.” He sounds pained, as if we wanted desperately to have killed you along with all the other padawans all those years ago, to save himself this dilemma. “Give me one good reason why I shouldn’t just kill you now?” He sneered, but there was something fearful in his eyes, as if he knew his own weaknesses, as if  _you_ were his weakness.

It occurred to you, kneeling on the ground, looking up at your former best friend. “Because you can’t.” His gaze was once more, cold. You’re not sure which hurts more, not having him in your life, or him acting as if you were a stranger. “Ben…” You tried once more, but it was futile. 

“That’s not my name.” He informed, coldly, before turning to the Stormtroopers behind him. “Knock her out. Leave her here.” He picked up his helmet and placed it back on his head as the Stormtroopers approached you.

“Are you sure you don’t want to kill her, Sir?” Asked one. You could feel yourself begin to panic, you went to raise your hand, to use the Force to get out, but you were stuck, and you could see Ben, with his arm outstretched, immobilising you.

“You  _know_ what I said.” He snapped at the Stormtrooper, and turned, heading further into the forest. You looked up at the two Stormtroopers, terrified and overwhelmed at all that had happened. One shrugged to the other before slamming the but of their laser rifle into your temple.


	21. Effect {Zoe Sugg}

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Imagine you’re a YouTuber and you and Zoe have been dating for a while, but she finally gets the courage to make a video announcing that the two of you are together.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tumblr: dilhowltersgaycousin
> 
> A/N: I’m here. I’m queer. I live in constant, existential fear. I haven’t seen any romantic, written imagines for Zoe so… this is a thing I suppose. AU where Zalfie didn’t happen and Zoe is confirmed ‘not straight’.

“You’ll be fine.” You wrapped an arm around your girlfriend, Zoe, pulling her close, but she’s still fidgeting, looking nervously at the camera. 

“I just… I’m just…” She stumbled over her words, before turning to you. “I love you. You know that, right? I love you.” She said, seriously.

“Of course I know that, I love you too.” You giggled, kissing her lightly on the lips. There was a pause, and she cast another nervous glance at the camera. “You can edit that out.” You laughed, softly, removing your arm from around her as she prepared herself to open the video.

“Hello everyone!” She said, waving to the camera, though the nervousness was clear in her voice. You smiled politely at the camera, before turning to look at Zoe, a small smile on your face as you admired her, she was so beautiful and so passionate and there were so many reasons you loved her. “So, as you can see, I’m here with -” she turned to look at you, and noticed your staring, you felt your face heat up, but didn’t look away, meeting her gaze, “what are you staring at?” She laughed, tapping your cheek.

“You’re so adorable.” You reply, almost awestruck at how lucky you were. Zoe dipped her head, blush creeping up her neck as she pressed a kiss to your shoulder. She straightened up, looking at the camera as if she suddenly remembered it was there.

“I’m here with (y/n)! And, uh,” She faltered, looking at the ground, suddenly unsure of herself, “we have something to announce.” She finished. You couldn’t stand seeing her like this, you pulled her close, holding her hand.

“It’s OK, Zo, I love you, they all love you, and they won’t stop loving you… neither will I. No matter what.” Your voice was quiet, barely audible, and she looked up, small, hesitant smile on her lips.

“I know…” she mumbled, “It’s just a bit scary.” She admitted, “I can never predict how the viewers are going to react.” 

“It’ll be fine, babe.” You pressed a kiss into her hair and she squawked, laughing loudly.

“You’ll get lipstick in my bun!” She cried, but she was giggling, and seemed less nervous, and you laughed with her. She turned back to the camera, taking a deep breath, before smiling, not letting go of your hand. “So, I know a lot of you have been following the development of the friendship between (y/n) and I on twitter and on here too,” you snorted out a laugh and Zoe nudged you, but her smile was sweet, with a playful twinkle in her eyes, “and you all know about our disastrous meeting at Vidcon.” 

“Oh God,” you groan, pressing your face into her shoulder, “please don’t include that clip of me calling you a beautiful fawn while I’m drunk and petting your hair.” 

“You were  _very_ cute there,” Zoe mused, and you laughed, looking up. To meet her gaze, full of such love and warmth, you couldn’t help but kiss her. “I’m really glad we’re telling them.” She wasn’t nervous anymore, she was excited and confident and  _in love_.

“So let’s tell them.” You said, though you could barely drag your gaze away from her face, and back to the camera. Zoe kissed your cheek before she turned to the camera, holding up your linked hands.

“We’re dating.” She cried, before bursting out laughing, leaning against you, and you rested your cheek against her head, smiling contentedly. “That feels so good to say.” She mused, and you looked over at her, smiling slyly.

“You are still a beautiful fawn, you know?” You said, quietly. Zoe laughed, kissing you lightly on the cheek as she moved to sit up and continue the video.

“Thank you, babe.” She grinned, before the two of you turned to the camera. “So, I suppose you’re all wondering what happened, well, after that first meeting,” she winked mischeviously at you, “we started DMing on twitter, and before I knew it, we began collabing together and we became  _actual friends_ rather than weird, internet friends.”

You leaned against Zoe, smiling softly at the camera, “We’ve both stated that we believe love is love, no matter the gender, for us, anyways, and so, we became really good friends and uh, well, I asked her out,” there was a pause, “probably the best accident I’ve ever had, honestly.”

“You know I remember that, too.” She said, looking vaguely amused and also rather smug.

“It’s a bit hard to forget.” You said, your face turning scarlet at the memory. 

“It was during Joe’s innuendo bingo video that I filmed,” Zoe grinned like the Cheshire cat, “and there I was, in my singlet and shorts, makeup running all down my face-”

“And I honestly thought she was the most beautiful thing in the world.” You finished, sheepishly.

“Which she then proceeded to tell me, with this starstruck look.” Zoe giggled, and you groaned.

“I just don’t know how to shut up, OK?” You mumbled.

“And she then proceeded to ask me out for coffee.” Zoe’s giggling turned into full on laughter at the mere memory and you buried your face in your hands. “Do you- do you-” she gasped between laughs, “remember what I said?”

“’ _If you think this is beautiful, you should see me when I haven’t been spitting up water for half an hour_ ’.” You smiled, despite yourself, and wrapped your arm around Zoe, who was leaning heavily against you, laughing hard enough that it shook her whole body.

“You are actually the loveliest person I know.” She huffed, the two of you sitting with your arms curled around one another. “I’m so lucky to have you.” She said, smiling in that way that made her eyes do the cute crinkly thing that you adored. “I love you.” She said, and it was the honestly your favourite phrase in the world, coming from her.

“I love you, too.” You told her, kissing her softly, smiling into the kiss. She pulled away, and you could see the stars in her eyes that mirrored the ones in your own, before she turned to the camera, leaning against you.

“So (y/n) is my girlfriend.” She said, with an air of finality.

“And incidentally, Zoe’s my girlfriend.” You said, causing the two of you to erupt in laughter once more. 

“What a crazy, random happenstance!” She said, in a silly, mocking voice. You squeezed her waist, smiling as you looked at the ground.

“You are such a nerd.” You mutter, and Zoe’s answering grin nothing but warm and full of love.

“Yeah, but you love it.” She mused, quietly. You snorted out a laugh, before pulling her back for another kiss.

“Yeah,” you breathed, “I really do.”


End file.
